


Mirror

by Wordprism



Category: X-Men (Movies), X-Men (Movieverse)
Genre: Break Up, Car Accidents, F/M, Falling In Love, Love/Hate, M/M, Mental Breakdown, Mutant Rights, Mutants, Surgery, Torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-09
Updated: 2013-11-09
Packaged: 2018-01-01 00:24:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 21,453
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1038155
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wordprism/pseuds/Wordprism
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The volume of the siren’s wailing almost made Logan’s ears bleed.  Sometimes, he despised his sensitivity.  With his eyes on Scott and the doctors at all times, he furrowed his brows in deep thought all the way to the hospital.  Getting a man killed over his damned brother.  I ought to beat the prissy little…  Logan bickered with Scott all the time, but watching him get nearly destroyed over his ex’s vengeful decision just made him as livid as the bruises tattooed into Scott’s skin.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Mirror

**Author's Note:**

  * For [](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts).



            A harsh wind ripped through the open windows of Scott’s office.  It filled his nose with the scent of fall, so that he could almost hear the leaves crackling underneath him as he shifted in his chair.  To be honest, he absolutely adored his role as a teacher, yet he hated grading tests.  He recalled his childhood, knowing he was intelligent in class yet never pulling through to his goals on an exam.  And why did his teachers always have to use red pen?  Did they get a kick out of making someone’s work look like blood had been dripped all over it?

            _A plus,_ he carefully scripted in blue pen on Rogue’s papers.  She was a bright girl, never scoring low.  Scott couldn’t resist the feeling that he was some sort of hypocrite as he wondered when anyone would actually require the use of graphing _y=15x 4-_ _⅚_ in real life.  He placed the paper in the stack towards the side, now holding Bobby’s exam in his fingertips.  For a guy like him, always horsing around in class, it was a shocker that he had a near perfect paper.  There were tons of scribbles close to bleeding through the last page.  When Scott flipped it over, he chuckled at the note his student had left him. 

            _Scott, I’d love to expand my knowledge and learn how to use algebra to fight off mutant protestors. I mean, who needs powers when I know how to square root?   And one more thing.  On question 24, I was a little confused, honestly. You know how it asked about the volume of Betsy’s pentagon shaped pool?  Who the hell digs a pool in their yard in the shape of a pentagon? Only in math…_

It was delightful to have a few rebels in the class.  Bobby knew Scott ran a tight ship, but he was okay to joke around with.

            Having recently split with Jean, Scott was focusing on his job and not on the rumors being spread about the two of them.  He’d heard everything from ‘It was all an act’ to ‘Jean messed with Scott’s head’.  None of that was true though.  It was actually a longer story that pained Scott to relive it.

            He and Jean were without one doubt, in love.  Ever since childhood, Scott had been the one to keep quiet as the other boys walked around shirtless following a shower in attempt to impress her.  Scott always got dressed again in the bathroom, taking his towels down to the laundry room rather than hand it off to the staff.  The leader never spoke about his past openly, fearing it would only reopen his wounds that drilled so deep into his nerves.  But that was beside the point.

            Scott was still young, not even thirty yet. The same went for Jean.  The passion that filled his heart when he saw her only made him thirsty for more, yet he was always increasingly parched.  It unnerved the boy.  He never knew if Jean was sick of him, just didn’t want to be with him anymore, or whatever else it could’ve been.  The amount of sheets between them as they slept only appeared to increase, and there was no other way to describe the situation at hand other than tedious.  It wasn’t that Scott only had that one thing on his mind, because that wasn’t the case at all.  After several months of night only consisting of sleep, it began to irritate Scott.  For crying out loud, was once too much to ask?  He wasn’t aiming to act like a pretentious fiancée, but he certainly wouldn’t be able to spend the rest of his life abstaining.  He felt so… lonely… in her company. It only made his stomach flip and twist even more when Jean acted as if things were perfectly normal.

            Granted, giving himself a one night stand leeway wasn’t exactly the optimal solution, but Jean had disregarded all his other attempts at patching up things between them.  But boy oh boy, did that get her attention.  And Scott had no shame in hiding what he had done.  He admitted to doing wrong, however, he refused to let her leave the room until she realized the past months had been filled with neglect and a lack of communication.  “You only seem to care when it’s close to an end,” Scott had accused with his utmost confidence. “You’re just hanging onto me, scared to let me go even though I’m collecting dust and glued to your top shelf.”  He refused to shed any tears at all, while Jean wiped her eyes and quickly slowed her breathing in order to compose herself.  Even Scott had to admit, Jean expressing her relief about the split to everyone in the mansion was like a stab in the neck.  Why did she need to stoop so low to that level?  Whether it was just for show, which Scott seriously doubted, or whether it was real, it hurt.

            It hurt a lot.  But the X-man refused to let himself be defeated in this situation.

            Heaving a sigh at the memory, Scott stood and exited his office after placing his books carefully back on the shelf.  It had been several weeks since the separation, and Scott had made the effort to remain close friends with Jean.  Nothing worse than two powerful mutants at each other’s necks over a past love life.  And all had gone well until today. 

            “Hey, Scott!” Alex waved to him from down the hall with a shit-eating grin.

            Scott locked his arm around his younger brother’s neck and chuckled as he roughhoused and messed up his hair.  “How are you, baby brother?”

            “Oh, quit it Scott. I’m twenty-three.”  Alex still couldn’t pull his sibling’s arm loose, which left Scott clearly proud and entertained.

            “And you’re still younger than me.  Weaker too.”  The two barely seemed related.  The brown haired brother with his strikingly handsome and beautiful appearance had a knack for giving orders and dressing straight from a magazine photo shoot. The blonde had hotter rather than handsome features, born with the incredible ability to irritate his sibling over the edge.

            “Stop messing up my hair, idiot! I’ve got a date tonight!”

            A teasing whistle escaped from Scott’s enticing lips as he released his grip on his brother.  “Who’s little Alex bringing home tonight?” He cracked a smirk.

            “You ready?” a familiar voice questioned.

            Scott’s expression immediately faded when he found Jean approaching his brother.  He didn’t have to be Wolverine to smell the fear in his exes voice.  She knew he would call her out on this eventually.  Regardless of how in love you are with someone, switching over to someone’s brother, the _younger_ brother, was nothing more than a dick move.  Especially just after leaving your childhood love behind.  Cyke couldn’t help but feel that this was some form of payback.  It had to be.  But he forced a pleased grin.  “And how long has this been going on?”

            “Week or so,” Alex stated simply.

            “Good.” He glared through his carefree expression, ensuring that Jean could read his every thought as he turned and exited the room.

            Scott sat on the edge of his bed, unmoving for several hours.  _My brother and my ex.  My brother and my ex.  Thinks she can show me I’m wrong, oh well you just wait.  I swear,_ Scott thought to himself, not allowing the tears singing his pupils to fall past his glasses.  Between work, the X-men, and his love life, Scott Summers could just not take it anymore. 

He stood from the bed and let out an ear piercing shout, a scream directed towards the sky.  Not a word, just a shriek.  By the time the man ran out of breath, he was choking on his own pathetic sobs.  Exhaling through his nose to prevent gagging on his salty tears and saliva, his nostrils flared as he sent his fist straight through his bedroom wall.  He caught the scent of blood as his knuckles split, staining the light wall and leaving a gaping vacancy.  And now he was simply unable to stop.  This must be what a mental breakdown felt like.  Throwing that chair out the window gave Scott such great pleasure, making him angrier and happier all at once.  He screamed enough profanities to realize Logan’s arrival had actually had an effect on him, words he never knew existed foaming at his mouth as he spit them with hatred.  Eventually, he collapsed on his bed in a puddle of tears, the rest of the room ransacked as he passed out cold.

By the time the team leader had awoken, Jean and Alex had returned.  He didn’t care what others suspected, but Scott was going to wash this blood off if it killed him.  Opening his bedroom door with a slam, he caught sight of Logan smoking outside his room. Scott wasted no time, approaching him, ripping the cigar from his hand and stomping it out right there in front of his own two feet before storming downstairs.  Logan blinked a few times at what he’d just seen.

Scott doused soap on his arms in the kitchen sink, scrubbing off the crusted blood and plasma, watching the tap water turn bright red.  And he knew Jean had just entered the room.  She was standing behind him, hesitating to even say a word.

“Scott…?” She whispered.  Clearly Scott wasn’t playing around, and he lacked both pity and mercy.

The torn boy continued to wash his hands, making sure there was a threatening, awkward silence before he vocalized his thoughts.  “Don’t worry about it,” he finally demanded, wiping his hands clean and leaning with his back on the counter.

Jean let her hair remain draped on her cheeks, a clear sign she was uncomfortable.  “Don’t pretend… Hate me all you want if it’ll make you feel better.”

“Who ever said I hated you?” Scott hissed his words like a serpent.  “Who said I moved on?  Who ever said anything at all?” His voice quieted to an ashamed yet disgusted tone.  “I obviously wasn’t good enough to hold your precious attention, so…” He looked down as he wiped at his hands. “I hope all works out fine and…” He dropped a sigh. “Fine and dandy.”

“I accepted my loss. I did.  Because I wanted you to be happy-”

“Bull, Jean.  I can smell the B-S from here.  That wasn’t a loss to you.”

She continued speaking without acknowledgement.  Typical.  “Asking you to accept it isn’t right, I know.”

“Damn right it isn’t.  Screw this, I need to get myself out of here.  I can’t deal with the two of you.” Scott fumed and paced out of the kitchen as Logan and Bobby observed the scene unfolding from above.  Bobby even suggested getting popcorn in a whisper to Logan, who smirked until he saw Scott glaring up at him.

            Turning back to Jean, Scott insisted on getting his point across.  “And don’t feed me this crap ever again.  Had you actually cared, you would have spent five minutes out of your day to talk to me.  You only cared, or pretended to care, when your reputation was threatened.”  The angered man grabbed his leather jacket off the couch and marched straight outside, his combat boots crunching the pebbles underneath his feet as he made his way down the circular driveway.

            “You are a cheater!” Jean yelled after him, following him out of the house.

            Scott laughed with his back to Jean, his head tilted downwards to the gravel.  He then turned around to face her.  “You wanted nothing to do with me.  You still want nothing to do with me.  I’m not justifying what I did at all, but you’ve clearly been happy ever since I did!  What were you, waiting for me to do something like that so it could finally be over?  Why didn’t you just tell me I’m boring as hell?!”

            Without anything else to say, Jean blurted out words she would only end up regretting.  “I wish I had never met you Scott! Never!”

            Once she hurried back inside, Scott plopped onto his bike, resting his head on his folded arms over the handlebars.  He turned his head down and to the right, away from the mansion as he heaved and strained to catch his own breath. 

            The sight from the window brought tears to Jean’s eyes.  The childhood memories, the teenage years.  It all came back to her.  A flashback seeped into her thoughts from when she was about fifteen years old.  The debris crushing her was too heavy to lift off with her newfound telekinesis.  A red beam shattered it into chunks, and she felt herself being scooped up in someone’s arms.  There was almost a faint gleam behind his visor as he brought his lips down tenderly onto hers, as he would for almost the next decade. Even through Dark Phoenix, Scott had not once left her side.  Maybe she should’ve gone out to apologize, but Scott was in no condition to accept it.

            He revved the engine, the back wheel spitting up pebble dust as he brought his foot towards the gas.  From the window, Jean followed Logan with her gaze as he walked out the side door, gripped Scott’s arm, and held him back.

            “Where are you going, Summers.”

            “Don’t touch me Logan, I’m not in the mood.”

            “You can run me over,” he suggested, stepping in front of the bike and shifting his weight forward as he gripped the handlebars.  “But one, that wouldn’t be very nice, and two, it wouldn’t exactly be pretty either.”

            Scott pressed his lips into a thin, white line.

            “Come on.  Don’t get like me, Slim.  I caught that buncha’ bullshit going on in the house.  Don’t be a wuss and get your ass back in there.”  Clearly Logan’s methods were proving ineffective.  But the boy wouldn’t stop crying.  Apparently this had really knocked his nerves around.

            Driven by embarrassment and depression, Scott forced Logan out of the way, ignoring his gentle expression and sped down the road. 

Logan stood up straight, sighing as he observed Scott fleeing.  He wiped his face in exhaustion with his tank and turned to walk inside once Scott had vanished around the corner.  Then there was a sound.  A screech followed by the sound of a crash.  Logan could sense it wasn’t too far away. In fact, the sound was coming from just down the road-…

_Scott._

Logan broke into a sprint, straight down the driveway.  He could smell the vapors of his own fear attaching to his nostrils.  What the hell had happened? Why did he catch the scent of smoke and alarm?  The man sprinted so quickly his jeans began to burn at contact with his skin.  Sweat of adrenaline commenced streaming down his temple as he rounded the corner with a skid, his hands on the hood of a car as he turned around to make sure they stopped short.  He continued to turn away and race down the sloped street, stopping at the sight of the wreckage.  There was an eighteen wheeler, a station wagon burning, and lastly a Harley motorcycle thrown onto the shoulder of the road.   He knew it was Scott’s because he stole it so often.  But where was he in all the wreckage?   _Damnit._

In a total panic, Logan desperately followed the aroma he knew to be Scott’s, lifting his head to eventually discover him laying directly under his bike, trapped and half conscious.

It was a disturbing sight, even though Logan was saturated with experiences like this from the war.  The boy’s soft hair was matted on the back of his skull, blood seeping from his skin like a bag of tea leaves in boiling water.  His bangs were plastered to his forehead, darkened by the sweat that colonized his face. A section of the middle of the bike had split, a metal rod impaling Scott in his side.  Dark fluids oozed from the wound, staining the grass and creating a murky river down the hill.  It didn’t look to be near any vital organs, but it certainly was serious.  His leg was bent at a funny angle, on the verge of snapping as it was pressured under the front wheel.  The boy gasped and let out a cry, tears skipping down his face as they pooled on the concrete. 

“I… I can’t see,” he panicked, trying to lift his arms to grope at the air with only half a conscience.  Then he began to scream. Repeatedly.  It wrenched Logan’s innards, hearing the boy shriek and cry like an infant.  Not everyone healed instantaneously.

Logan carefully placed Scott’s glasses correctly on his face, a hand on his chest to steady his breathing.  “Scott, you got hit, you’re gonna be fine okay?  I need you ta’ calm down.  You’ll lose blood the more you panic.”  There was no way Logan could pull out the pipe that impaled Summers.  He’d bleed to death right on the spot.  Instead, Logan extended his claws, expertly slicing the metal so that the pipe’s end remained inside of his flesh, but he could be pulled free.  Without hesitation, Logan scooped the young man up and carried him over to a stretcher. 

Now, Logan could barely trust doctors after Weapon X.  Therefore, the sight of his claws was enough for the nurses to allow him on the ambulance to the hospital.

He reassured the Professor when their minds connected in a conversation.  _He’s gonna be fine.  He’s conscious.  It’s just a little… run through, nothing that can’t be fixed._

The volume of the siren’s wailing almost made Logan’s ears bleed.  Sometimes, he despised his sensitivity.  With his eyes on Scott and the doctors at all times, he furrowed his brows in deep thought all the way to the hospital.  _Getting a man killed over his damned brother.  I ought to beat the prissy little…_   Logan bickered with Scott all the time, but watching him get nearly destroyed over his ex’s vengeful decision just made him as livid as the bruises tattooed into Scott’s skin.

The waiting room was even more torturous.  Logan knew an operating room wasn’t his place, so he slouched down in a chair as he made sideways glances at people who looked like they were coming here to die.  No, this was a place where someone could fight whatever was tearing them apart off.  A huff pushed past his salty lips, staring at the clock as the hours went by.  He had already called the mansion’s voicemail, making it extremely clear in his message that “Seeing little Miss Sunshine or the oh-so-caring sibling” would probably give Scott a stroke when he opened his eyes.  That was the last thing anyone needed.  Logan was aware from experience that there was nothing more frightening and unsettling than being surrounded by people you truly didn’t care to see in the middle of a hospital room.

“For Scott Summers?” a nurse with a clipboard called his name, the time now approaching three in the morning. 

Logan stood up, almost collapsing when he became aware of the pins and needles that infected his legs.  “What happened? Is he okay? Where is he?”

“Don’t worry, sir.  His levels are close to stable again.  He’s asleep in his room now.  Technically visiting hours are over…” Her voice trailed as Logan tilted his head down and to the right, his left brow furrowed and raised. “But I don’t see it being a problem.  Room 308B.”

Logan immediately found his way to the dark room, only the sound of a heart monitor beeping slowly and regularly.  The silence was unbearable.  He had a desire to shake Summers awake, tell him to get back to pissing him off.  He pulled a chair inaudibly towards the bedside, taking a seat and watching over his friend until he dozed off as well.

The morning sun beamed through the windows, splitting into various colors and casting its rays upon Scott and Logan’s faces.  With a couple of blinks, Scott lifted his lids to view his red world, squinting his eyes and surveying the room.  Why was he in the hospital? Oh, right.  His tears had blind-sided him and got him into a collision.  Wonderful.  He stroked the soft fabric of the cotton blankets, lifting his hospital gown to reveal a circle of stitches on the left side of his torso.  Then there was Logan, who he figured must have found him on the side of the road.  “L-Logan?” His voice was weak and crackly, but enough to wake the man up.

“Huh-… Oh, mornin’ Scott.  You any better?” he questioned, sitting straight up.  “I was scared we were gonna lose you.”

“No, I’m alright…” Scott exhaled, and it was clear Jean and her new relationship was on his mind.

“I know you’re banged up and all, but could I ask you one quick thing?” 

“Go ahead.”  Boy, did Logan have horrible timing.

“If you didn’t feel good about being with her, why are you so upset now that you aren’t?”

“Of all people, my _brother_ , but…Logan I just woke up so can we not-”

“Yeah, well I get that. But still.  It’s over, stop making yourself sick over it.  It’s already taking a toll on you, Scott.  I don’t want Laser Boy trudging around in depression all day from now on.  Understand?”

Scott completely disregarded Logan’s request, unable to extinguish the flames within his mind that made him desire being able to act depressed, never getting off his ass again.

“I’m not covering for your classes again, Hon.  Danger Room, maybe.  But I know as much about algebra as you know about wiping your own ass.”  Logan slanted a dark brow and leaned back in his chair.  Slim got babied when he was under the weather.  No wonder he was such a whiny little thing.

“Ugh…” Scott’s stomach grumbled faintly, and he prayed Logan didn’t pick up the sound.  He was starving since his last meal was breakfast of the previous day.  But he wasn’t sure if he could stomach anything, never mind hospital food. 

“Hungry?”

 _Go figure,_ Scott thought crossly to himself.  “No.”

“McDonalds or Taco Bell.  Your choice.”

“Who the hell eats tacos at ten in the morning?!”

“Sorry my suggestions don’t fit your schedule.  I’m trying to help you out for once, so take that damn stick out of your ass!”  When Logan pushed Scott’s buttons, he was deemed an ass.  And when he went to help him out?  He was also an ass.

            That quieted Scott down.  A part of him knew how ridiculous he was acting, throwing fits like a child.  But in all fairness, he’d been through more in his twenty-seven years of existence than most ever experienced in two lifetimes.  His teen years had been jam-packed with years of comas, losses, and he’d essentially lost at least a good five years of the most precious time in his life.  His childhood.  What could it possibly be like to wake up years later and realize your entire family was missing since the day you slipped under?  With a timid whisper, he vocalized something so softly even Logan had to crane his neck to hear.

            “What’d you say?”

            “Cinnamelts…” Scott said it a bit louder this time around, not at all perplexed when Logan gave him a funny look.  “From McDonalds… Can you get me an order?  Two, actually. They’re a little on the small side.”

            Logan released his irritated expression, just relieved that Scott had finally made up his mind.  “Alright, Slim.  Just don’t go running off while I’m gone.”

            “Very funny, Logan.  Hilarious.”

            With a taunting smirk, Logan exited the room and hospital to go to the fast food restaurant down the street.

            Scott remained still in bed, flipping his pillow to the cold side and closing his eyes.  Since the room was so sterile, the worn away scent of his cologne was the only thing keeping him sane.  And he begged his mind to stop filling his head with lyrics that only made him feel more dejected.

_Sometimes when I close my eyes, I pretend I’m alright but it’s never enough._

_No, Scott.  Walking on Sunshine for Christ’s sake._

_Nobody said it was easy.  It’s such a shame that we had to part._

_You’re turning into an emotional wreck, Scott._

_Told myself that you were right for me, but felt so lonely in your company._

“Dear God,” the man groaned.  Why did he suddenly know all these sappy tunes?  He grunted in annoyance and flipped on the TV, changing channels until he found a comedy that he liked.  The Big Bang Theory was always one of his favorite shows.  He understood most of the references, and he appreciated the intelligent humor.  So he kicked back and relaxed until his breakfast arrived.

            Meanwhile, Logan stood on line at McDonalds.  There were several things he couldn’t quite figure out.  If people were waiting on line for so long with the menu plastered in front of them, how come they only began wondering about what they might want when they actually got to the register.  And another thing.  What made it so hard to get an order right?  All the times Logan had ever asked for a plain cheeseburger, the first mouthful was always tainted with the taste of ketchup, mustard, pickles, and onions. He’d lived a long time, so why did he feel the people around him were only becoming more inept?  At least they could get two boxes of Cinnamelts right.  

The girl at the register handed Logan the bag, giving his strapping frame a good stare.  Her expression screamed, _This isn’t actually for… you, is it?_

Ten minutes later Logan reentered the hospital room, handing Scott a fork and one of the boxes, which he greedily opened and wolfed down.  They were shaped like pretzel nuggets fused together, except soft, and with cinnamon and sugary white frosting pooling in any vacant spaces.  Soon, the entire room had the fresh scent of warm cinnamon and a gleeful Scott happily mopping up the rest of the frosting with the last bite on the fork.  “Thank you.” His voice was muffled by a mouth filled with food.

“Anytime.”  Logan hadn’t bothered getting anything for himself, because he wasn’t the one laying bruised up in bed.  He wasn’t denying the fact that he was hungry, though.

Exhausted, he rubbed his forehead as Scott picked up the second box from the bedside table.   Scott stuck his fork in the sugary breakfast and noted quietly that Logan looked starving.  Leaving the fork in place, he held the container out.  “Take it, I’m full now.”

“Full, huh?” Logan knew Scott was a liar, but he was stubborn too.  And there was no point in arguing with someone as persistent as him.  So he took the box and finished it off, never imagining junk food could taste so delicious.  “So are you feeling any better?”

Scott honestly tried to keep his smile to a minimum.  After eating all that sugar, he couldn’t helped being hyped up.  “Much better.”

The two men talked a decent amount throughout the morning.  Scott remained in bed while Logan never left the bedside.  Because the only time something would go wrong was when Logan would just happen to leave the room.  And he couldn’t allow anything else to happen to their team leader.  So they spent the day and evening watching movies, all while making cracks that only X-men would understand.

By the following morning, Scott’s stitches were helping him heal rather effectively, his bruises still a dark purple, but fading nonetheless. The surgery had been done so carefully as to not leave those dreadful scars behind, much to Scott’s relief.  And by the next day, he was permitted to return home.

The deputy leader of the X-men stood from the bed, steadying himself with a firm hand on the mattress.  Grabbing his clothes, he gripped the wall and hobbled over to the bathroom, taking a good ten minutes just to pull on his boot cut jeans, tee and leather jacket.  The process exhausted him so much, that dizziness was already creeping upon him. 

From Logan’s view, the bathroom door swung open with Scott still hanging on for dear life.  The poor guy looked so out of it, still so torn and beaten up.  The emotional stress must’ve been making it even more challenging for his physical wounds to heal.  Logan saw it coming from a mile away, stepping forward to catch Scott before he crashed onto the floor.  “Alright,” he stated as he supported Scott up to his feet.  “Let’s get you out of here.”  Clearly, the boy couldn’t take another step.  “You owe me, big time.”  With that, Logan picked Scott up in his arms, slowly making his way down to the car which he’d ran home to pick up the other day.  Scott smelled like he needed a bath.  His pheromones tasted of fear, stress, and even a slight bit of relief, each and every emotion clogging Logan’s nasal passage.

Logan laid Scott down like a child along the back seat of the car.  He realized the door wouldn’t be able to shut without Scott’s legs shooting out of his shoulders, so extra precaution was taken in shifting his hips and bending his legs ever so slightly so that the door could close. 

Wolverine was the one to break the silence on the drive home.  “You alive back there?”

“I don’t want to go back there.”

“Why the hell not?” Logan cocked a brow as he glanced at the man in the back of the car through the mirror.

“I seem like such a wuss.  I had a mental breakdown, Logan.  God knows who saw or heard about it.  Then there’s the whole deal with my brother.”  Scott couldn’t quite turn his head enough to catch the corner of Logan’s eyesight, so he targeted his shoulder with his vision instead.

“Yeah, well we all have our moments, Slim.  I’m not afraid to admit that I’ve had mine.”

Scott perked up a bit.  “You have?”

“Don’t push it.”

He sunk again. “Sorry.”  The rest of the drive was relatively silent, leaving Scott to wallow in his shame.  He’d nearly gotten himself killed over something as childish as a breakup.

“Just do me a favor, please refrain from turning into Taylor Swift.  Shit happens sometimes Scott, as much as I hate to admit it.”  Logan sighed as the car came to a halt. 

“This isn’t home…” Scott’s voice trailed off. 

“No, it’s a hotel.  Gonna’ stay here until you can keep your chin up when you walk back inside.  If there’s one thing I learned about women, it’s that they get a kick outta’ seeing themselves win.  I’m not wrong, am I?”

Scott nodded in agreement.  For a guy who kept to himself so often, Logan sure did have a great deal of worldly knowledge.  Using his arms to pull himself out of the car, he quickly stood.  He’d taken a few painkillers earlier, and now the aching was somewhat bearable.

“Can you walk, or do you need help again?” Logan slanted one of his dark brows, locking his gaze on the boy as if he were about to topple over.  There was no doubt Summers was easy on the eyes, even Logan had to admit it.  He always got the girl he wanted and ended up like this when he didn’t.  But this time, it wasn’t just about a girl.  It was about his own kin, something that would cause revenge to bubble up his chest for nearly the rest of his life.  And now?  He just looked like a damn train wreck.

“I’m fine.  I can walk now.”  In attempt to conceal his limp, Scott followed behind Logan into the hotel.  He stood in silence as he waited for the room keys, once again following Logan down the hall to two adjacent rooms.  “Thanks,” he added, taking the card and opening his door. 

“No problem Slim.  Go get yourself cleaned up and we’ll go grab a bite to eat.  You look like you’ve been starved half to death.”  Logan studied Scott, furrowing his brows.  “And shave too.  It’s weird looking at you when your face isn’t baby ass smooth.”

“ _You’re_ telling _me_ to shave?”  Scott was at least getting his wit back, thank God.  With one last smirk, he entered his room and shut the door. 

Straining his legs to get into the bathroom, Scott stepped with an invisible limp.  He squinted at the bright light inhabiting the bathroom, a disgusted look forming on his lips.  “Oh, ew. Mother of God.”  He gave himself a good, smooth shave like always until he resembled his former self and allowed his palm and fingertips to run across his light skin. Now that the room was silent, his stomach screamed, “ _Allow me to play you the song of my people!_ ” Luckily, when Logan had brought the car back to the hospital, he was smart enough to pack a few extra clothes in case they took a few days.   Scott made his way over to the bed, slipping off his jacket and eyeing the clothes folded in a pile on the mattress.  In his hands, he held his own shirt between his fingertips, raising it over his head and setting it down on the side as the seemingly cool air wrapped around his torso.  With one glance into the mirror, Scott couldn’t help but ponder about what he saw. 

He was always lean, never the one with those bulbous muscles that made him the epitome of irresistible.  And he was slim indeed, but stealthy enough to show the cuts of muscle down his biceps, his powerful shoulder blades and a tightened abdomen.  The man’s statuesque lips curled into the softest, most modest of smiles at the realization that so many considered him the textbook definition of sweet perfection.  He didn’t always understand why, but maybe he just had that charm about him.  It was an undefined saccharinity, something within him that turned heads.  It could have been the fact that his most vital gateway of communication, his eyes, were concealed, leaving a trail of curiosity behind for anyone who intended on seeing them.  How he somehow managed to be firm and valiant on the battlefield and returned to his boyish, yet sophisticated nature once he’d returned home.  Head tilted and still gazing at himself, his hands shifted his worn jeans off his bare hips as he stepped out of them, calves working as he took the second pair in his hands, sliding them on until his sculpted hipbone was covered once again.  He then stood with his hips poised behind him, chest exposed for a few more moments until he’d stretched the fresh cotton tee onto himself. “God, I’m…… starving.”

Logan’s voice interrupted Scott’s deep thoughts. “You coming or am I gonna’ die waiting?”

“I’m here, I’m here.”  Scott shrugged on his leather jacket, cracking open his door and giving a radiant smile.  He felt almost millions of times better now than he did back in the hospital.

“Well let’s get some food in you then, Sunshine.”  Logan took a brief glance at Scott, ensuring that he wasn’t limping or bleeding anymore.  He couldn’t have the guy collapsing in the middle of the street.

“I’m fine, Logan.”  Scott chuckled in a carefree manner, taking the passenger seat as Logan drove around in search of a restaurant.  “How about there?” Scott pointed towards the left of the road at the Outback Steakhouse just down the street.

“Whatever you insist, Slim.  You’re getting pity catering today.” 

“Pity, hm?”  Scott smirked like a little devil, eyes flashing underneath his shades as he stood from the parked car.  He followed the Canadian inside, plopping himself down across the booth once they were seated.  Overhead the bar, Scott could see a television screen that depicted vast mutant rallies, captions ranging from ‘No More Mutants’ to ‘Mutant’s Rights Revolt in New York’, followed by the last few words that made Scott uneasy.  ‘Security before Liberty’.

Logan automatically caught Scott’s line of vision and shook his head.  “Scott, you’ve gotta stop worrying.” Then his voice quieted to a whisper as to avoid drawing attention.  “You know we’ve seen these headlines for years.  And they’ve never won.”

Scott made no attempt at a response, only sinking further into his chair when a clip from one of his own public speeches was replayed in a news segment.  He felt like- No. He _knew_ everyone’s eyes were on him.  He’d been foolish enough to put himself out there and set an example for protestors worldwide.   But was he foolish?  Or just crazy enough to do the right thing.  He was never able to decide. 

Logan pursed his lips at Scott’s silence, devoting his attention to the TV.

 ‘Mutants and humans.  We are the _same_ species.  Don’t you see?  Mutations aren’t harmful… They just add variety.  There’s no need to be so ashamed of being associated with something you can’t even comprehend yet!  A little girl with auburn hair.  An adult male with the ability to digest lactose, drink milk. You may as well call them mutants too, because that’s what they actually are, I hate to break it to you.   But having powers to read another’s mind?  Having the ability to transform into any other human being?  It sounds horrifying at first, I’m aware.  Because even I know from experience, that there are individuals who abuse power.  But why is this only being directed towards my kind?  Of course, we have the telepaths here and there who use their mutation to get hidden information, or others who use their powers for violence.  But does that make us all criminals?  Are all humans felons because the occasional one decides to become a serial killer?  We aren’t any different than you or you!  Why does history have to repeat itself millions of times before anyone ever learns a lesson?  From the Inquisition to the Civil Rights movement to today… I hope I wasn’t foolish enough to assume people had changed.’

Scott sipped his soda, driving his attention away from the sound of his own voice on the screen.  Meanwhile, Logan took in every one of Scott’s passionate phrases and held the mug of beer in his grasp.  Damn, Summers knew how to make a speech.   “Scott, you ought to be a little proud of what you’re doing here.”  When Scott only gave a nod in return, Logan glanced back up towards the bar.  The headline had changed from ‘Mutant Leader’s Address’ to ‘Mutant Quarantine Program’.  Those three words were enough to bring a scowl to Logan’s sharp features.   Apparently rogue mutants would be shipped off to special ‘facilities’, as the government put it.   Logan sniffed the bullshit from miles and miles away.  He was looking at something that returned his memories of World War 2.   “Bastards…” He muttered, taking a swig of beer and a bite of the sirloin in front of him.  “Scott, when we’re done it’s straight back to the hotel, alright?”

“Yeah, yeah, I know.”  Scott stuck his fork into his potatoes, almost angrily as he didn’t bother to glance up.

“It’s just hell out here is all, and you’re in no condition to fight.”  Logan took a deep drink from his mug, licking his lips over and setting the glass down on the table.  “So what exactly happened with you and Jeannie?”

“Complicated” was Scott’s reply as he became suddenly engrossed in the meal in front of him.

“Don’t be touchy.”

“I’m not being touchy, Logan.  She’s my wife-”

“ _Was_ your wife,” he corrected.

Scott pursed his lips, unamused at the statement and blatantly a little offended.  Logan always knew how to push his buttons and get him talking.  With a sigh of defeat, Scott opened up.  He explained his side without the slightest hint of bias, because he knew Logan could smell bullshit too.  He admitted he desired a love life, and an active one.  He couldn’t stand being distant from the person he was with.  And granted, he’d fallen for a scandal, but he refused to believe it was solely his fault.

Logan raised his hand to catch Scott’s attention.  “Could I ask who?  You didn’t just use a girl to piss of your wife, did ya-”

“Emma Frost.”

Logan’s lips curled into a scowl.

Scott automatically assumed Logan was angry with him.  “I mean it wasn’t like-”

“Please, if you did in fact use her, I’ll buy us another round.  Bitch walks around calling herself a queen.  Queen my ass.  I see she’s too good for uniforms and made it a law that she gets to parade around like the fuckin’ Queen of Narnia while the rest of us get down and dirty.”

Scott sunk a little.  “Isn’t that the White Witch?”

“White Queen, Witch, Bitch, whatever you wanna call it.  She thinks wearing an ‘X’ can nullify the fact she did work for Hellfire.  I don’t trust her, Scott.  I don’t know who the hell ever let her in here.”

“We’re actually…”

“Oh.”  Logan pressed his lips into a thin line, playing with a coaster between his fingertips.  “Bit of a step down for you, huh?”  He glanced up, raising one brow.  “I mean… If you’re trying to show Jean you were concerned about the entire relationship, not just the bedroom, why go for her, of all people?”  Then he took a pause.  “You got a thing for telepaths?  Like fun little mind games throughout the day while you’re teaching?”

“That’s enough Logan.”

“You know it’s true, Slim.  Teaching algebra to kids all while you take in those trashy mind messages of what you could be doing on that desk of yours.”

The boy’s face was now an explosive red, unable to look the feral in the eyes.  “I don’t let her do that…”

“Sure you don’t?  You wish you could, Scott.  You’re just so wrapped up in your own self sometimes that you’re not even able to accept the fact that maybe Jean doesn’t want you anymore.”  Granted, Logan knew he was being harsh, but he was already riled up.  He had to admit his jealousy of the attention Scott usually received.

“Oh, you hypocrite,” Scott sneered, adjusting his shades and continuing to eat.

Logan cocked a brow.

Pointing his fork at Logan with the rhythm of his words, Scott removed his moral filter and said with his mouth half full, “Just like you could never accept the fact that Jean could _never_ love you the way she did me.  No matter how much she hates me, no matter how much she wants me dead and gone, I’ll always be the one.  Always.”  At his last word, mouth still full, he stuck his fork back into his food.

This made Logan growl deep within his throat.  Damn Slim and his comebacks.  He finished off his beer and wiped his mouth.  “Sorry,” he muttered.  “I guess her going for your brother was kind of…”

“Mhm.”

“But really, Emma?”

“I mean, I don’t know.”  Scott fiddled with his hands, eyes questionable.  “I don’t think we’re going to last very long anyways.”

“And why is that?”

“Just doesn’t feel right sometimes.”

“Cause you still love Jean.”

“Well there’s no denying that, but I just feel like me and Emma aren’t meant to work.  There’s plenty of fish in the sea, and apparently I’m already turning into an asshole because of that relationship,” he admitted with a grin.

“You’ve always been an asshole,” Logan stated with a grin.  When the check arrived, Scott pulled some cash from his jeans’ pockets and reached for it.  Then Logan shook his head, smirking and taking the check anyways.  “Calm down, Loverboy. Gentleman always pays on the first date.”

“You know something?”

“Yes?” Logan smiled genuinely yet sarcastically all at once.

“You’re an asshole.”

“I know.”

The serious faces then cracked into sheepish grins which burst with carefree laughter.  The two forgot the world around them, oblivious to the hateful stares coming their way.

“Well what makes you think there’s going to be a second, hm?  You know what they say about assuming.”  Scott rose from his seat with a taunting grin, bringing himself towards the door as he weaved through tables.  He had an elegant little poise about him, yet always managed to make Logan wonder how he could be so blithe one moment and outright serious the next. 

Logan stood as well, shoving his hands into the pockets of his jeans and following Scott out of the restaurant.  As Scott was oblivious and continued to walk, he only paused to look over his shoulder when he realized Logan had been stopped at the door.  He tilted his head, doing his best to listen in to the conversation Logan seemed to be engaging in with a little girl who appeared no more than seven years old. 

She’d tugged on his jeans from her miniscule height, piping up to speak the moment he turned around.  The dark-haired man was intimidating, but she had no problem with that.  “Are you one of them?” She whispered.  It was almost as if she had knowledge of the world around her, well aware that the mutant situation was a sensitive topic which had to be handled like a delicate baby bird. 

Logan glanced from side to side, lips parted before crouching down to the girls eye level.

“You’re Wolverine,” she whispered with a jovial expression.

“I am.”  Logan couldn’t help but smile.  Here he was, a big bad killer with claws, and an elementary schoolgirl was treating him like Mickey Mouse.

“Does your hair grow that way?” She tugged on the two tufts protruding from each side of Logan’s hair and gave a laugh, which Logan would have normally solved by stabbing the person through, but this time he just grinned, maybe even blushed a little.

“Yes, it grows that way.  I’ve got no hair styling experience, kid.”

“That’s awesome…” Her eyes filled with awe as she turned her feet inwards, hands behind her back.  “I wish I could be a mutant.”

“You do?”  Logan couldn’t recall the last time he’d heard such a thing.  He raised a black brow and became suddenly curious.

“That way I could save my brother.  He could fly.”  The girl spread out her arms and moved them in an up and down motion.  “He has wings like a bird, and the people sent him off to camp last night.  They said he would be fine, but I don’t think they were telling the truth, because my brother was crying when they took him.  And you’re like a superhero… So I thought if I was like you then maybe I could save him.”

Logan was at a loss for words.  The government was taking children now?  _What kind of sick country is this?_ “You’re still young, you never know.  And I’ll do my best to get your brother home nice and safe, okay?”

The blonde girl simply nodded, her lips pursed.  “Thank you Wolverine.  Don’t let them catch you, please…”

From the sidewalk outside, Scott’s lips curled into a smile that he was unable to suppress when the child suddenly gave Logan a hug.  It was such a hysterical moment since Logan had never been the hugging type.

“I see you’ve got fans,” Scott said with a smirk, turning on his heels and continuing to walk once Logan had caught up with him.

“They’re takin’ kids now, Scott.”

Scott froze in his steps, his mind instantaneously filling with a dreadful imagination.  Where were they keeping them?  In a prison?  In a laboratory?  The government was gradually allowing laws to form that stripped mutants of the pride in their identity.  Supposedly, a cure was in fact in production throughout the majority of governmental labs.  Would it be sprayed down by air, destroying the mutation of anyone who happened to be in the target region?  Were children being tortured behind the political media that buttered up the news?  Scott abruptly became fearful of the law enactment that was scheduled for a midnight debut.  It was called the _Mutation Welfare Quarantine Act_.  To Scott, it was simply another name for _Mutant Prison_.  Luckily, the X-mansion was encased in a force field, which happened to be finished just in time for the unexpected act of legislature.  The kids would be safe there, and tonight he would defend his home with his life.   And if looks could kill, the stares the mutant leader was receiving along the sidewalk would have certainly taken his life by now.

“We better get home, Scott.”  Logan nodded towards the car in the lot, stepping off the curb.  He stood between the black car parked next to him and his own.  “It’s not gonna’ get any better staying out in this hellhole any longer.”  The time Logan had spent on Earth had allowed him the time to realize that the government merely appeared in order, when in reality it was merely a selfish organization seeking personal welfare.  They never took the time to think before they acted, not at least the way they should.  Logan was already well aware that the news stations would be forced to describe the situation as a peaceful and orderly solution, whereas the Wiki Leaks members and journalists who sat in mobile homes predicting the alien apocalypse would be the ones to expose what was actually going on.  There was no doubt about it that the politicians would make mutants the new Area 51, leaving the public under the assumption that everything had been taken care of.  The sound of a car door was heard, Logan’s senses heightening as his eardrums vibrated.  His nose picked up a suspicious scent, something that smelled of authority and brand new suits.

Scott, being on the other side of the car, was the first to comprehend the situation entirely.  He caught everything as it unfolded, his eyes springing open behind his lenses.  “LOGAN!” He yelled across the short distance, his hand approaching his temple as he readied himself to release his beams.   Logan’s claws were already extended, the rippling muscles of his shoulder blades pressed together as he flipped around to the government agency’s vehicle.  Without a clear shot, Scott was unable to unleash.  There was always a chance he’d hit the families fleeing the scene, and that wouldn’t earn his kind a better reputation at all.  The moment Logan spun around, Scott’s heart nearly froze.  One gunshot, and Logan’s claws retracted into his forearms.  A second gunshot, and the feral was sinking to his knees, slumping face down onto the concrete of the parking lot.  And then a third gunshot, like a reinforcement to ensure there was in fact a river of dark blood seeping from his head. 

It would only be minutes before Logan sprang to his feet again, and the agents knew this.  Before Scott even had the chance to think about his next move, there was a dart in his neck, followed by a bag over his head and the world crumbling into oblivion.

********************************************************

With a strained groan, Logan allowed his eyes to open.  His cheek was plastered into the rigid asphalt, flecks of black dust and the red imprint of the road smoldered into his right cheek.  His eyes took a couple of moments to adjust to the blinding afternoon light, and he picked up one of the three bullets that lay in front of him on the ground.  Rolling it between his fingertips, he began to recall what had just happened.  “Scott…” he thought out loud, staggering to his feet.  They’d taken him, and Logan had let them get away.  He muttered profanities under his breath, cursing himself and getting in the car before speeding home to the mansion.  Within twenty minutes, he was pulling through the long gravel road that curled into a driveway.

In a sheer panic, he slammed the door open and paced inside, stopping at the main hall and looking up and to the sides. “Scott?!”

Anyone who happened to be in the hall stopped what they were doing and turned to face the panicked mutant in the middle of the room.

“Is Scott back from the hospital?!”  Jean Grey’s voice was concerned as she stepped out of her room.  She pushed her hair behind her ear as Alex Summers held her by the waist.

With one quick glance, Logan swallowed a mouthful of repugnance.  “As a matter of fact, no.  He’s _not_ back from the hospital.”

“Well… then where is he?”  Alex inquired, doing his best to cover up his inner relief that his older brother wasn’t home.

“I’ll tell you where he is,” Logan growled, taking a step towards the couple.  “While he was out there working to save your asses, you were sitting back on your haunches and screwing around at the wrong damned time.”  The feral’s voice now had the qualities of a true animal, his claws itching to split his skin.  Nothing made him more furious than a teacher’s pet who played it real sweet and acted all surprised when a tragedy happened.  Blood rushed to his torso, his heart racing in ferocity as he struggled to prevent the Adamantium blades from piercing the inner walls of his knuckles.  He could already feel the points tear through as he clenched his fists.  “To think I fell for something like you all those years ago… You just keep on rolling, don’t ya.”

Jean hesitated, then shook her head once and stared at the floor.  She turned herself instinctively towards Alex, who shot Logan a glare.

“Sorry, Bub,” he said to Alex, unintimidated. “I don’t recall you being able to shoot lasers out of your eyes.”

“You need to go Logan,” the blonde began to say.

“I need to go?  Funny, considering all was going well until you dragged your sorry ass over here.  Your brother saved your pathetic life and this-” Logan motioned towards the two of them, “is how you repay him?!”

“Logan, calm down.”  Jean had her lips pressed together, the telekinesis in her veins creating a slight movement of objects around the room.

“Oh, please.  The man got into a car wreck because of _you_ and your asinine decisions.  Our last chance at bringing this crap to peace is _gone_. _Kidnapped._ Probably being _tortured_ in a _lab_ because you can’t resist being a spiteful little bitch!  And don’t you dare pull the boo-hoo crap with me because I will _not_ see all I have left get destroyed all. Because. Of. _Your._ SENSELESSNESS!  You BITC-” Logan was now heaving, his firm chest rising and falling underneath the tank that covered his skin.  There were children watching, and he wasn’t afraid of stating the truth, but the circumstances were too delicate to get physical.  With a snarl directed between Jean and Alex, Logan retracted his claws and stormed off, not daring to make eye contact with anyone.

 “Touchy,” Alex muttered under his breath, glancing down at the floor.  Logan must’ve heard, because he lifted his left fist and continued to walk away as his middle claw slid out from his skin.

With a slam, Logan shut the door to his room and pulled a cigar from his back pocket, clamping it between his teeth as he struck a match and lit it, inhaling the smoke deep into his lungs.  And this was why he hated working in a group.  You get the ones who do absolutely nothing and make a point of it, the ones who act like they’re doing something when in actuality all they’re doing is spitting hot air, and then the one or two who actually do the work.  “The hell am I going to do,” he mumbled, pursing his lips and blowing the smoke in a thin line.  There was only one option.  Two, actually.  He could use Cerebro or he could go out on his own and trace the scent.  Scott’s cologne usually made him an easy find.  “That’s the plan,” he sighed, smoking until the flame had burned out, nothing more than silence and rising ribbons of smoke filling the dim room.

Logan only freed himself from his lair when the sun fell behind the other side of the world.  Cigar clamped between his teeth, Logan meant business.  This would be an in and out operation, no dawdling or negotiating.  He would bring Scott back to where he belonged, maybe kick a few asses along the way if need be.  After crossing the driveway, he stretched his long leg over the bike and plopped down, taking a puff of smoke and sitting with the seat between his legs.  After giving the engine a good rev, he sped off with gravel spitting up behind the rear wheel. 

The air along the drive was hollow, like that medium temperature that was borderline chilly, only making one shiver on occasion.  Fall leaves rustled as if listening in on Logan’s thoughts as he cruised by. 

The boy’s scent was a bit trickier to follow than usual.  Granted, he’d probably been taken miles away, but how far could you really go in two hours?  Since Logan was going by scent and rarely paying attention to the road signs, he was borderline oblivious to where he was actually going.  The destination wasn’t an address.  It was Scott.  The bike ripped down the freeway, its engine performing for the entire stretch of road.  He was growing so close… so very close.  _Scott was been knocked out_ … he sniffed again.  _They gave him a bloody nose, and there’s the smell of salt mixed in. Tears._ “Damn it all.”  Whatever the hell was going on, Logan was now mortified.  Through the night, bike stopped at a fence, Logan realized in perturbation that he was staring straight at an airport.

*********************************************************

Scott woke in a box.  No, a crate.  The only clothes on his body were his slacks, which were now torn and stained from the events of the past few hours.  Rubbing his forehead, he sat upright and took a look around.  He wasn’t the only one here, and everyone else was staring him down with wide eyes.  Yet something about this entire situation seemed off, and he was unable to put a finger on it.  “I-…” Nothing was red.  His hands immediately found his face, detecting the absence of the glasses that defined him as a mutant for the past fifteen years of his life.  “Where the hell-“

“Welcome to camp, Cyke.” He turned to face the ageless blue that was speaking to him.  Well, she was supposed to be blue, at least.  She lay on a thin bed and played with her nails, honey blonde locks falling over her shoulders. 

“Raven?” He tilted his head to the side with furrowed brows.  “How the hell did they-“

“Catch me? I know, I was pretty thrown off too.  Guess they’re catching up to us after all, hm?”

“I see you were able to keep your wit, weren’t you?”  It wasn’t that Raven’s blue form was what intimidated him, but Scott suddenly couldn’t picture her snapping people’s necks with a grin on her face as such a young, stunning blonde.

“Can’t cure it all now, can we?”  She sat up across from Scott, a blue tee and tattered shorts being all she wore.  She kicked her bare feet and stared out the barred window, no streams of sunlight trickling in, only night.  “I bet you’re wondering why the hell you’re here, huh.”

“Well… I was assuming that was kind of a natural question-”

“They send us to a lab every day.  Sometimes they want you for testing, other days you get to spend locked up in here.  You’re in here because you’re considered one of the biggest threats, apparently.  I don’t know what was going through their heads when they thought that, but nonetheless, welcome to hell on earth.”

Swallowing with difficulty, Scott glanced around at everyone else in the room.  Why had he thought the room was so crowded, when there was only one other woman there?  It was probably the drugs wearing off.

She was draped in a red cape she’d cut and tied into a garment, her dark brown curls at her side.  “Pleasure seeing you here, Scott.” 

Never in his life had Scott imagined a scenario where such powerful beings like Wanda and Raven were confined like animals in a prison.  Before Wanda could speak again, Raven continued.

“And get used to one meal a day, Slim. I would eat Taco Bell every day if I had the chance, that’s how shitty it is here.”

“Have you tried to get yourselves out of here…?”  Scott took a look at the doors, the windows, and any other area that might serve as a potential escape.  How was it possible that humans were able to trap them so easily?

“They want to experiment,” Wanda explained as she pushed her hair over her shoulders with a nearly regal air.  “And they’ve captured the three of us for specific reasons… although I’m not exactly sure what they are.  They told us to expect your arrival this weekend.”

At that moment, the door opened to reveal a guard, adorned with weapons.  “You freaks have the day off.  Tomorrow is your final day in the labs.”  He had a dog next to him, a pinscher with sharp, cruel eyes and a pointed snout.  Before shutting the door, the guard flicked his wrist and sent something flying in Raven’s direction.  “Skank,” he muttered and walked away as it struck her across the face.

Scott’s blue eyes darted towards the blonde, seeing only the blurred form of something flying at her.  Wanda’s hand was over her mouth when she came to a foul realization. 

“What’s on my face…?” Raven asked as if she already knew, the vile smell clogging her nose.  Her eyes were squeezed shut and she froze like a statue. 

“Hold- hold on.” Scott face twisted in disgust as he reached down to his pant leg, ripping off a section of the fabric.  He had assumed correctly by thinking that there was in fact dog excrement on Raven’s nose and cheeks.  He leaned in, carefully dabbing it away without smearing, and then wet his other thumb with his tongue to clean off the last of it from under the girl’s eyes.

Raven said absolutely nothing, merely keeping her lips pressed tightly as a single tear rolled down her cheek.  That’s how Scott knew things were bad here.  They’d brought Raven Darkhölme to tears.  The sky was dark, and everyone was beyond exhausted, including Scott who’d just woken up.

“I guess I’m gonna’ crash,” Wanda sighed, turning away and facing the wall in her bunk.  She wanted nothing more than to be free, even if they took her powers away.  It wasn’t like she could even control them anyways.  In all honesty, there was nothing that would feel greater than the lifted burden of her past.  She didn’t want to go through life being known as the daughter of a mutant terrorist.

Scott wiped off his fingertips and let out a quiet sigh, climbing over to a spare mattress and letting his body relax on the worn fabric.  He was a leader that had been stripped down to a pathetic excuse for life.  Before he had any time for further thought, sleep had consumed him and taken him into its inviting arms.

In the middle of the night, Raven lay awake and stared at the chipped paint along the ceiling.  All she had ever wanted in life was to be accepted for who she was, the way she looked, the way she acted.  And now here she was, a normal girl who would fit in perfectly, yet she still remained unhappy.  She’d grown to love the navy scales that decorated her skin, the beautiful red locks that curled against her alluring smirk.  And here she was, trapped in a cage and cured with the scent of feces lingering in her face.  Who knew, maybe tomorrow would be the last sunrise she saw.  It would probably be the first Scott had seen in normal coloring since his coma.  The man was sound asleep, shifting from his back to his side as he breathed, his shoulder blades now facing her.  Sure, they’d had a history of differences and had nearly killed each other over a hundred times, but things were different now.  She was just a young woman, and he was just a man who no longer needed his world renowned ruby shades.  Standing in silence from her bed, she stepped over to Scott with her feet bare, crouching down beside him and lying down.  She didn’t make contact, but just continued to stare up at the ceiling. 

“Whoa- Raven?” Scott was now awake, head tilted in honest curiosity as to why his mortal enemy was next to him like this.

She just shrugged and scooted a little closer.

Without reason, Scott just opened his arms a bit and allowed Raven to lay her head on his bare chest.   It was extremely disheartening for Scott to feel her tear stained cheeks on his own skin, and all he was able to do was stay awake and run his fingers through her honey colored hair until she stopped her silent crying and drifted off.  To make her feel safe, he held his lips to the top of her head and held her in a protective embrace.

In the morning, before the sun could fully break into the sky, the door swung open with several guards standing in the hallway.  “You take the red, you take the blonde, and I’ll take him.”

This was like being shot at point blank range.  Raven immediately shot up from Scott’s embrace, eyes wild as she tried to sprint straight for the door.

“Raven, stop!” Scott yelled after her and stood, nearly falling over when a bullet grazed his arm and gunfire deafened the scene.  She let out a scream, tears now pouring from her eyes as they dragged her away, her bare heels scraping along the ground.  He looked on in horror as Wanda gave in, simply following the guards without a struggle.

“You don’t care…?” Scott whispered towards her.

She walked on in silence.

“Now your turn, Mute.” The closest guard held a shotgun and a taser, and as far as Scott was concerned, he may as well have had an animal control pole to go alongside it. 

The mutant leader didn’t run.  The mutant leader didn’t fight.  Nor did he do anything else other than take a single step back.  His eyes itched like the air was filled with pollen, and for some reason the guards’ expressions twisted with alarm.

“Guys I think we’ve got a situation-” One began to say.

Scott felt something building up in his pupils, his head seemingly enduring the pressure of a closing vice.  Completely caught off guard, he felt his back slam against the concrete wall along with a blinding flash of red that sent the roof caving in.

****************************************************

 _Where the hell am I…_ It had already been a week for Scott in lack of consciousness. He dreamed and then slipped under once more.  _I’m so hungry…_ Was his next thought two weeks later.  _Food..._ was his next dreamt thought.  And then a further journey into darkness arrived.  It would be another month of oblivion and starvation before he was permitted to awaken.

He blinked as he finally woke, staring straight into a sun of blinding light.  His vision was once again without red, fully saturated with every hue a human could see.  Secretly, he felt like the one kid whose mom had sent him to school with the 96 count box of Crayola crayons.  As the man adjusted to his enriched surroundings, the table he laid on singed his skin with coldness.  Clenching his abdomen, he sat himself up and glanced around the silent room.  His body was bare, exposed and radiating its natural human warmth.  His hands found and collected a sterile blanket, which he hugged to his chest in order to cover himself like a morning after, and slipped off the rectangular table.

“Where…”  Scott ran a hand along the white walls, studying the medical equipment that lined the shelves.  Needles, scalpels, it all made him shiver, the tingle sending vibrations up his spine.  He was now slightly underweight from his months unconscious.  His jawbone appeared cut from stone, his statuesque lips reflecting in the mirrored wall ahead of him.  The cure running through his veins allowed him to stare into his own eyes, his dark pupils encased within an azure, crystalline iris.  His eyes glistened, watering at the thought of what he’d been reduced to.  Here he was, the fearless face of rebellion, a symbol of hope for his kind, and he was no less trapped and degraded than an animal.  He couldn’t even bring himself to think about Raven or Wanda at this point.  He’d failed his students, all those children desperate to be rescued from families who just didn’t understand.  He’d failed to see that Xavier’s dream became reality, a world at peace, and without his mutation there was nothing he could do.  Too broken to even hold the sheets, Scott allowed them to slide down his flesh and onto the floor, once again exposed to the chilling draft.  His stomach rumbled, pangs of hunger wrenching his insides.  His hips still contained their gentle curves, the cuts of his calves, thighs, and biceps still clear and defined.  There was no doubt he was a trooper, ignoring the blue tear slipping down his cheek and following the indentation of his jawbone.  Scott rested his hand on the mirror, lips parting in shock at the frigidness.  He didn’t want a life that ended in solitude, but he was now forced to face the fact that the only hand touching his was a reflection.  Wasn’t there someone standing unseen on the other side trying to pull him through?  Someone to take him home and remove his mind from this endless cruelty, this nightmare he was learning to call home?  He had no clue there were workers and doctors on the other side, noting his every movement.

“Subject M is awake.”  The voice broadcasted across the room, and Scott took a step back from the mirror in suspicion and alarm.  A white gas then filled the room from vents in the ceiling, filling up Scott’s lungs as he inhaled.  His vision clouded and he collapsed to his knees in a violent spurt of coughing, his throat making sounds that sounded like someone was squeezing his esophagus.  Saliva dripped down his chin and splashed from his throat as he lost consciousness, his naked body hitting the floor with a thud.  There was the sound of an opening door, voices, hands tugging at him, and then darkness.

When Scott’s mind fluttered to life again, there was no need to open his eyes, for the lids were already pinned up as he soon discovered.  Originally, there was no panic.  He attempted to move him arms, only then realizing his limbs were bound to the table, as were his chest and abdomen.  He still lacked clothing, his hip area draped in a thin white cloth.  Completely unable to move, he could only imagine what sort of device was keeping his skull locked in place.  He then began to struggle, yelling out, but was shortly interrupted.

            “Calm down, Mr. Summers.  You’re already making this harder than it has to be.”  A doctor stood above him, placing a gas muzzle over the mutant’s pink lips and waiting for his rebellious phase to calm.

            What was going on? He’d literally woken up to a knife about to chop his eyeball open? Or was he still asleep? “What… What are you doing…” The scalpel’s blade was now approaching his right eye, blurring as it moved within millimeters.  “Wait- Stop.  STOP!”  Scott shrieked, his eyes glazing over with tears, voice cracking with a newfound weakness now that his vision had misted over.

            “Can’t cut right if you keep on crying,” the surgeon stated blankly, his hot breath collecting behind his mask.  The freak below him wouldn’t stop tearing up, so the surgeon just let out an exasperated sigh, attaching tubules to drain the tear ducts.  “Now shut your mouth and let me work, you freak.”

            Those words penetrated Scott’s confidence, sticking out like a sore thumb.  Ever since he was a child, he’d dreamed of being like all the rest.  Being the bright kid that he was, he could’ve easily been at the top of his class and the popularity rank.  Yet he never bothered joining the soccer team like he wanted to out of fear his supposed ‘gift’ would hinder his success.  And he’d been a good looking kid too, could’ve had even more girls falling for him than he already did.  Another part of him didn’t give a damn that his teen years hadn’t turned out as planned.   He was proud of the figure he’d become, of the man he’d grown to be.  His face was plastered all over magazines along with his own quotes and words, his speeches viewed by mutants and humans alike as they sat by the fireplace or ate at the dinner table.  He was determined, courageous, and nobler than he would ever credit himself for.  And as the paper thin blade approached his eye, Scott refused to succumb without a battle.  He was a leader, the face of his kind.  At the very least, he would face this procedure with no fear.

            “Good.”  The doctor spoke to him like an animal in training.  Then he lowered the blade.

            First, a slit through the cornea.  The only way Scott could think of it was a grazing paper cut straight across his eye.  The slice was rapid at first, nearly painless until it slowed with a harsh sting and sent a spasm of shock throughout his body.

            ‘Okay,’ he thought to himself.  He suppressed his inner horror and stared directly at the blade as another perpendicular cut formed the shape of a plus sign over his pupil, releasing a thin film of eye fluids that dribbled down his temple.  The perpendicular slice went a bit deeper, his eye creating a bit of resistance, almost like a rubber ball, until a slightly harder press of the knife broke through and sunk into the white flesh of the eyeball.  Scott began to feel woozy, lost.  He let out a bloodcurdling cry as a needle was inserted like a straw through the flaps of the split cornea straight through his pupil, like the lid of a soda.  He could feel it probing within the organ, poking around until all four inches of needle had vanished back into his head.  At the contact point of the optic nerve, Scott screamed for help.  He could feel the needle against the inner walls of his iris, and once the blood was drawn from the back of his nerve, his body began to experience a series of violent spasms.

            The assistants in the room couldn’t bear to watch the poor man, mutant or not, screaming and seizing on the operating table, his limbs thumping as they jerked down on the cold metal.  They all looked off in other directions due to the shame such a sight caused them.

*************************************************

 

Logan had finally caught up.  They’d tricked him into thinking Scott was somewhere in the middle of Canada, not in a secluded region in the middle of the Catskills.  He could only hope the boy was still there, and hopefully alive.  Leaving his bike in the woods, Logan followed a steep path down the hill to avoid the light of the watchtowers surrounding the camp itself.

His boots snapped twigs among the fallen leaves, Scott’s scent growing stronger and stronger.  He was alive.  Stretching his leg over a boulder, Logan slid down the side of the rock with the front of his jeans tight against his thighs.  He extended his claws slowly, the blades piercing his knuckles, clenching his fists at his sides with his arms turned out as he approached a guard.  A head-butt with his Adamantium skeleton and a quick slash through the torso left the man in pieces on the ground.  There would be no mercy tonight.  Yellow innards squished under the toe of Logan’s shoes as he advanced forward. One by one, he diced and dismembered each and every watchman he came across.  There was none of this ‘I was just following orders’ crap.  Last time men were just following orders, there were body piles as high as an apartment building.

The watchtowers began to set off their alarms.  _Damn it all,_ Logan thought to himself.  They’d found him sneaking around through the dark and were definitely going to send down some armed forces.  But what was he kidding, worrying about people coming after him?  Hell, he was Wolverine. 

Logan dashed for the barred window with the intention of cutting it through and hoisting himself inside.  To his dismay, he felt his arms pushed back by an invisible force, his whole weight crashing onto the cement with a thud.  What in the living hell?  He rose to his feet and tried again, this time slowly.  As he brought his arm closer, he could feel a pushing force keeping his arm at a distance.  The entire damn place was surrounded with a magnetic field.  They must have been expecting someone along the lines of him to come to the rescue.  The Canadian glanced back over his shoulder, nostrils flaring as he spotted the guards running in his direction.  Drawing in a ragged, feral breath, he charged the building, grunting and groaning as sweat immediately coated his scrunched face with a glistening moisture.  The effect of the magnetism made him dizzy, his skull seeming to spin in all directions as he continued pressing his body against the invisible wall.  Then, the world suddenly stopped swirling, sending him toppling through the wall with a sudden relief of pressure.  He gave himself no time to recollect, immediately hopping to his feet and sprinting down the bright, sterile hallway.  His animal senses began to kick in as he raced through the building, digging his claws into the bars that contained child and adult mutants alike as he ran.  That triggered a bit of déjà vu deep within his innermost memories, but there was no time to sit and think about it.

Now, where was Scott?  His scent was clouding the hallways, all of everything that made him who he was, along with fear, solitude, and sweat that smelled like he’d been scared shitless.  Freed mutants, starved and exhausted from being experimented on, fled their cells and ran down the hallways.  Maneuvering away from the guards and towards the door marked ‘Subject M’, Logan didn’t even bother double checking.  He knew Scott was in there. With a crash, he slammed open the door to find a man huddled in the corner, his bare legs pulled to his chest with his bottom pressed to the freezing floor.

Scott only saw the world in red now.  They’d taken his ability and reproduced it, all while leaving him with his mutation in case they ever needed to perform the procedure again.  “L-Logan…?”  The man brought his legs tighter to his chest, staring at the claws that protruded from the Canadian’s knuckles through his lenses.             

Logan was dripping in sweat, blood soaking up his pant legs as he stood above Scott.  “I need you to be quiet, and put these on.  You’ve got two minutes.”  He knew it was harsh, but there was really no option of taking it slow.  He grabbed Scott’s jeans after slicing the locked cabinet open, tossing them down along with a black tee.  “C’mon Summers.”  The feral stood guard at the door, staring up and down the halls while snapping his fingers to make the boy get himself dressed faster. 

Then the alarm sounded.  Flashing lights that illuminated the darkening hallway repeated in a rhythm, and a hissing sound escaped from the vents in the laboratory.  Scott was unable to sense the vapor, but Logan began to tear and cough as it invaded his system.  “Scott-… Out. NOW!”  Logan had no idea what the hell was entering his bloodstream, but he didn’t like it.  Not one bit.  With a hacking cough, he yanked Scott by the arm down the hallway as bullets buried into his muscles only to pop out a moment later. For some reason, Scott was unharmed by the fog that filled the halls.  It had to be something specifically for the Wolverine, of course.  They must’ve been expecting him to come save Summers, just since he was one of the most feared mutants in existence and Scott was the Ferris Bueller of his race. 

When they broke from the high security prison, Logan dodged the beams of the watchtowers and gripped Scott by his bicep.  He yanked him without hesitation back up the hill, nearly dragging his fatigued body through the brush of the silent forest.  Branches swayed and leaves danced with a chilling rustle as the bike, tucked away behind ivy and shrubs, came into view.  He swiped the branches and twigs away, the wind picking up and bending foliage in humanlike contortions.

Logan’s grip on Scott never loosened, even as he lifted him onto the seat of the bike behind him.  “Hold on, Slim.”

The mutant leader was beyond exhausted, still coughing here and there from the amount of adrenaline pumping through his veins.  As Logan sat in front of him, tears filled his eyes in the utmost relief that he’d been rescued.  The time he had spent there was nothing more than a living hell, and all he’d wanted to do was stand before a mirror and look right in without his glasses, just to see what might happen.  He pressed his cheek silently to the back of Logan’s leather jacket, moist tear stains growing cold against the October winds.

“You okay back there?” Logan revved the engine once, taking off and driving at a brisk pace, his dark hair blending with the night shadows.  The response he received was merely a tightened grip on his waist and a nod against his back.  “Okay, Slim.”  Logan made his turns gentle, the bike’s wheels maneuvering expertly along black ribbons of road.  Street signs and lights became first scarce, then absent, the meandering road now darker than the night itself.  Tall pines and looming deciduous trees were black, swishing and rustling as the hollow wind sounded.  The moon was only a soft glow behind gray clouds, and every time the wind breathed, Scott dug his face tighter into Logan’s shoulder blades, savoring the warm breath that rebounded off the leather.  It was that in between temperature, not quite frigid, but cool enough to give the flesh a brief chill.  The ride would have been relaxing if Scott hadn’t been so drained and on edge.  The seat wedged between his legs and pressing onto his inner thighs was the greatest comfort he’d ever felt after sleeping on an operating table for so long.  God… that table was worse than ice.

Meanwhile, Logan kept his eyes on the road.  The scenery here was breathtaking, perfection at night.  This was the type of place where automobile navigation systems lost connection.  Just darkness, moonlight, and the sounds of night.  The unseen psithurism was what made him enjoy the forest even more.  It was more tranquil than a private island could ever be, at least to him.  The eerily quiet surroundings allowed his thoughts to set themselves in the front of his mind, which was gradually being relieved of the headache the previous noxious gas had given him.  _About an eighth of a mile back, on the left of the road, two deer were mating.  About twenty feet up in the closest pine tree, a family of two squirrels were snapping twigs to make a nest._ Why was he noticing all of this?  Unless the mysterious gas was having some sort of delayed effect on him.  No wonder the frightened watchmen called him an animal and sneered in superiority when the gas entered his lungs.  They’d intended to contain him, lock him in a cage like a wolf in the pound.  Logan began to breathe through his nose, nostrils flaring as humanity slipped away.

The bike pulled to a stop, and Logan allowed Scott to use him as a crutch to get inside.  Nobody was awake, and the mansion was silent. 

Summers smelled like a scared little boy- well, he was one.  Suddenly, in the blink of an eye, Logan lost all touch with his normal self.

“I guess I should be going off to bed.”  Scott stood on the wooden floor, glancing at his feet in embarrassment with his broken state.  He heard no reassuring reply, no statement to ensure him things would be okay in the morning.  “Logan?”  He looked up to find the man staring at him with curiosity from several feet away. 

Sniffing through his nose a few times, Logan was able to pick up the scent of dried blood, which caught his immediate attention.  Still in silence, he took a few nimble, soft steps up to Scott and touched the fabric of his black tee with his fingertips.

“What’re you doing?” Scott whispered quickly, and then noticed how the man’s eyes darted around with an even more alert sense than usual.

 Through the darkness, Logan’s eyes were wide, untamed, and even feral.  His claws slid out from between his knuckles while his expression showed true focus.  He made a gentle cut along the fabric, easily tearing off the suspicious shoulder region of the shirt.

Scott wasn’t sure whether to look at the infected incision scars along his chest or to look at whatever the hell Logan was doing. 

The silent man lowered his head to the cuts, his tongue preparing just behind his moistened lips.  Parting them, Logan opened his mouth the slightest bit and rested his teeth on the bruised cuts.  His incisors brushed along the skin, almost as if testing for softened, injured areas.  His lips tickled the surface, warm breath condensing on the wounds.

Scott could only pray nobody saw this.

Logan then wrapped his arms around Scott from the front, not from behind, and pressed his teeth down slowly onto a bruise, applying pressure gradually until the flesh broke smooth and clean.

“What are you doing?!” Scott yelped in a jolt of pain and shoved the feral away.

Logan gave a whine, the high pitched whimper filling the hallway.  He grabbed at Scott persistently, waiting to get ahold of him and for him to stop resisting before he quit his airy sniveling.

Scott silenced himself, realizing Logan had fallen into an animalistic trance.  The Wolverine breathed against the injury, never allowing his attention to wander from the blood.  He soothed the bite with his soft, pink tongue, lapping up the blood like a cat drinking milk from a saucer.  He was cleaning the wound, a simple gesture of worry and concern.  His strong hands were flat against Scott’s middle back, warm bodies pressed together in a tight, gentle fit.

Figuring it would be best to let Logan finish, Scott rested his cheek on the Canadian’s shoulder, thinking of nothing except his exhaustion and relief as the infection was drawn and licked from his tender skin.  A single claw was brushed down his back, the cotton tee suddenly falling to the floor.  “Whoa-” Scott lifted up his arms a bit as Logan began to sniff his bare sides and chest, hands gliding down his waist.

It had been so long since Scott had been touched in any way that his human nature couldn’t resist triggering a rush of hormones, his breath and mind beginning to race in a way he hadn’t imagined possible, especially with the man in front of him.  He didn’t want Logan.   He cursed himself in silence when Logan picked up the faint pheromones of natural arousal, his wild eyes snapping up to Scott’s.  Logan gave his head a slow, serious shake, lightly pointing to the wounds and touching them.

It was now clear that Logan simply wanted Scott to recover, his eyes pleading for the resistance to stop.

“Okay, okay…” Scott whispered.  “Just, shh…”

Logan tenderly nudged Scott along, sniffing his way back to his own bedroom.

“My bedroom is over there,” Scott whispered, pointing to an open door down the hall. 

Logan shook his head, lifting Scott onto his toes, and laid him down in the center of the bed.  On his hands and knees, Logan began to nuzzle the covers with his nose.  He bunched up the sheets around the carefully observing Scott, leaning forward over his waist and gripping the fabric between his teeth loosely, his lips brushing across Scott’s abdomen as he draped the sheets over him.

Scott pressed his lips together, debating if he should hold this against Logan for the rest of his life or not.  It’d be a good slap in the face for all those years of hate. But- “Oh-” Scott was now staring up as he remained flat on his back.  Logan was leaning over him, his face upside down with innocent, alert eyes that were almost playful.  He planted several kisses on Scott’s shoulder, his warm lips almost tickling.  Scott’s mind slipped into the clouds, sinking into white darkness before he was asleep on his back.

He woke again in the middle of the night, the clock reading three in the morning.  Outside the window, it was still dark, wind still breathing in the night.  “God, what in the hell…”  Logan’s arm and leg were draped over him.  Pulling his lips back and keeping his teeth together, Scott attempted to lift the strong limbs off of his body.  He tensed and fell silent as Logan grunted and readjusted his arm.  Then Scott gave it another try, being careful of the man’s threatening, retracted claws.  He slowly pried himself away, sliding his legs off of the bed and standing up in the dark room.  The floorboards refused to stop creaking, and the door seemed to further itself with every advancing step.  Scott bit the inside of his cheek, glancing back at Logan and then focusing on reaching the door.  The moment he turned the knob, he wished he was back on that operating table.

“Summers.”  Logan was sitting straight up, staring at the shirtless man at the door of his bedroom.  “What the hell are you doing? Scott?!”  Logan growled deep in his throat, slowly standing from the bed.  His fists were balled at his sides, his strapping form growing closer.

The moment Scott panicked with a gasp and pulled the door not even halfway open, Logan’s hand was above his head and pushed it shut again.  He held his hand there, glaring down as Scott turned with his back to the door in a fruitless effort to escape.  “You wouldn’t let me leave-”

“I asked what the hell you were doing here.” The sound of claws sliced the silence.

“Let go you ass!”  Scott landed a firm knee into Logan’s torso, jumping up and out of his grip.  “You didn’t let me go! _You!_ ”

“Wha- wait. What?” Logan, puzzled, took a hesitant step back and retracted the blades.

“Son of a…” Scott took this opportunity to fake a rightful madness.  He wasn’t going to lose the one chance he had to tell Logan off, even though he was honestly too wiped to want to.

“Wait…”

“Yeah, wait.”   Scott slid away, brushing off his bare torso, and glared at the man directly in front of him.  He was doing his best not to disturb the sleeping mansion.

“What the hell is going on?”  Logan was genuinely confused, which made Scott unable to take advantage of the situation like he wanted to.

After seeing Logan’s expression, Scott felt the irresolute sigh locked behind his lips escape into the quiet air.  “I…”  He glanced up from the floor, his knees weak.  “You got me back but… they sort of… drugged you and…”

Logan’s expression had twisted with discomfiture, head tilted and lips parted.  “Spit it out Summers.  You’re making it seem like I raped ya’.”

“No, not exactly.”

“What? Not _exactly_?”

“It was weird… You kinda’ went all…”  Scott’s smooth voice trailed, knowing how much Logan abominated being referred to as an animal of any sort.  “You started acting… detached, should I say..  Not exactly… human?”  He had no idea how to put it.  How do you explain to a man that he grew the mindset of a worried puppy? “The foyer security cameras,” he decided.

“The _what_ now?”  In only sweats, Logan followed the younger man down to his office.  Eyeing the monitor as Scott leaned over the computer, Logan almost grew uneasy.  What was so odd that it made the kid speechless?  With a side glance, Logan observed the footage that Scott pulled up on the screen. 

Suddenly, there he was.  Was he… _pulling and holding Scott to him?_ Nuzzling his neck and… _licking the wounds?_ That was all he could see before both men, seemingly from another world, were removed from the view of the camera.  That couldn’t really be him, could it?  Logan hadn’t realized how flushed his face had become, how embarrassed he felt.  He was a killer, a human being.  Logan was too ignorant to realize the gentle contact was purely protective rather than lustful and carnal.  A disgusted look masked his worried mind as he stormed from the office back to his quarters, cursing under his breath.  Making no effort to glance back at the young man, a sudden feeling of inferiority spread through Logan and made him unable to face the situation at all.  “Bullshit,” he huffed, voice rough, but not enough to push the troubling thoughts from his conscience.  _Unbreakable on the outside, roller coaster on the inside._

Meanwhile, Scott didn’t dare follow Logan out of the room.  It wasn’t even dawn yet, and nobody deserved to wake up to a fight scene.  Slumping in his chair, it was only a matter of minutes before he had his head on his arms, sleeping quieter than a baby.

“Scott. You’ve got an algebra class to teach…” A finger was poking his shoulder, causing Scott to shoot awake and almost fall from his chair. 

“Wha-” Scott steadied himself, holding the edge of the table as he glanced up.  And there was his brother, standing directly in front of him.  “You’ve got some nerve.”

His brother had already seen this coming.

“Well thank you for the welcome home, Brother.  Much appreciated.”  Unwilling to argue, Scott stood and grabbed a shirt out of a drawer.  After pulling it on, he made his way into the hallway, but stopped as he heard his brother’s remark.

“Still a little jealous?”

Scott immediately stopped walking, pivoting on his feet to face his growing enemy.  With that, he pointed a finger at his brother and snarled, “You need to watch your mouth, Alex.  I know life is a game to you, but one day it’s gonna’ come back to bite you in the ass and rip you a new one.  So don’t you dare come crying to me when you’re in trouble.  Because next time you want me to save you, and there’s only one parachute…” Scott knew his brother would understand and hopefully never cross him again. “I’ll have to think twice about holding onto you.”  He knew how cruel the statement was, but to be honest, he was done caring.

At a loss for words, Alex stared dumbfounded while his brother left the office. 

“Storm teaches math too, and I’m taking the day off.  Send a memo.”  Scott rubbed his forehead and made his way up the stairs, not seeing Logan exit his bedroom and approach the staircase from the other end of the hall.

James refused to speak to Scott after the previous night.  He wanted a clean slate, even though deep down he knew postponing only allowed more time for awkwardness to grow.

“Thanks for getting me out of there…” Of course Scott couldn’t let there be silence.  He always had to fix things, didn’t he? 

Logan continued to walk down the stairs past the man in the ruby shades, not bothering to acknowledge his thanks. 

“I said _thank you_.”  Scott was at the top of the stairs, his arms folded.

What a persistent little kid he was.  “Next time I won’t listen to what everyone else tells me to do.  You can save yourself,” Logan stated, turning around as he looked up from the foot of the staircase.

“So you saved me against your will?  Well, thanks anyways.  Always good to know who has your back, right?” 

Sometimes Logan wondered if Scott was bipolar.  Not bipolar, but… one second he was a pushy little annoyance and the next moment he was telling Logan things that left him without a comeback.  It made no sense.  “Well, I had some will but…”

“Thought so.  You have a nice day now, Logan.”  

“You too… I guess.”  If Scott hadn’t been in such a fragile state after losing Jean to Alex, Logan never would’ve been this nice.  “Sorry ‘bout being such a dick earlier.”     

“Don’t worry about it.  You’ve always been one.” With a sly grin, Scott changed his mind and walked down to the bottom of the steps, his hands in his pockets.  “So anyways, how are you faring?”

“Tired.”

“The man who heals in an instant is tired? Poor baby,” Scott mocked as he walked at his side.

“Don’t push your luck, Slim.  This is the nicest I’m gonna’ get.  So, if you don’t mind me asking, what the hell did they do to you in there?”

“I don’t want to talk about it,” was Scott’s reply, and Logan began to wonder how horrible the experience actually was.

“Come on, Scotty… Couldn’t have been all that bad now, could it?”

A bit taken aback, Scott sneered on the inside at the statement.  “Course not.  Because we all know _nothing_ can top your time in Weapon X now, can it?”

Logan had a habit of doing that, and he knew it.  He always found it so easy to act like he kept his troubles to himself while he flaunted his terrible past at the same time, somehow.  He hadn’t meant to offend Scott like that, but it was too late to take it back.  “I didn’t mean it that way, Scott, come on…”  His voice trailed when he spied the nasty wounds seeking refuge under Scott’s shirt.  “Are you sure you’ll be alright…?”

“Positive.”  Scott obviously had no interest in answering with any substantial thought, since his focus was now on Jean, who was making her way down the hallway. 

Logan was able to notice that Scott couldn’t take his eyes off her.  The kid was jealous, furious, because he still loved her.  A small seed of hate sprouted in Logan’s chest when the redhead didn’t even bother to acknowledge her ex and just kept walking by.  He then gazed at Scott to find him looking back after her in lost hope.  When Scott turned back to the way he and Logan had both been walking, Logan stopped in his tracks and turned around to see where Jean was in the hallway.  He had to catch her before she vanished into a classroom, and while ignoring the fact that Scott was tugging his sleeve to get him to stop, Logan spoke up and projected his voice down the corridor.  “Well, aren’t you going to welcome him home?”

Scott’s grip on Logan’s arm tightened in apprehension, while Jean, still facing the other way, froze and was momentarily unable to move before looking once over her shoulder and rushing into a classroom. 

Logan was the only one smirking, mostly proud of himself for catching the woman off guard.  But by the time he turned around, not only was Jean gone, but so was Scott.  “Scott?”  The only sound in the house was the slamming of his office door.  With a sigh, Logan followed and rested his hand on the knob.  “Scott, open up.”  This was like talking to a teenage girl, in Logan’s opinion.  “She’s a bitch, alright? Now will you let me in?”

A muffled voice sounded in response.  “No, go away!”

“You’re worse than Rogue right now, Scott.  Open the damn door before I kick it down.”

“I said, _go away_.”

When Logan forced the door open, he was shocked with what he found.  It wasn’t Jean Scott was secluding himself over.

Scott was standing before a mirror in his gigantic office, his shirt thrown aside as he stared at the surgical wounds that painted his torso.  There were harsh, leftover cuts, ripped stitches… no wonder he was such an emotional wreck.

“It’s not that bad…” Logan hesitantly reassured.

“Not that bad?” Scott turned to face Logan from across the room, wet streaks painting his cheeks.  “You’re going to look at me and tell me that I’m okay?”

“No… But let’s at least get you fixed up.  Scott, you’ve been through shit the past few months.  You don’t need to walk around like a used Band-Aid all day.”

With an obedient nod, Scott followed Logan into the medical room, sitting himself on the examining table and kicking his feet slowly against the legs of it.

“Will you stop that?”

“Sorry.”

“Thank you.” Logan began rummaging through drawers, pulling out rubbing alcohol and several rolls of gauze.  “Alright,” he said, walking over to the table and looking the wounds over, “I’m gonna’ need you to sit still.”  When Scott stopped shifting, Logan began to clean out the wounds on the boy’s shoulders.

Scott hissed and yanked his arm away! “Shit, that hurts!”

“It only hurts because you keep _moving_! Stop moving!”

Scott slumped down as Logan eyed him.  Then, sighing, Scott sat back up and allowed Logan to clean the wound.

Logan wiped down any remaining blood, the crusted red tinting the cloth in his fingers.  “Damn, Slim…” He dragged the damp fabric down Scott’s back, being careful of any existing cut that had a chance of opening up and bleeding.  The poor kid was probably in so much pain; no wonder he was so uneasy. The cloth cleaned up the gentle arch of Scott’s back, from the shoulder blades to the small. Logan could feel the muscle shifting over the bone, the arch deepening up to the cleft at the very bottom of his back.  Tilting his head, Logan wondered how someone could have such a tough, yet slender little body.  He stalled for a moment, which caused Scott to look back over his shoulder.

“Everything alright there, Logan?”

“Couldn’t be better.  If you’re careful, it won’t scar.  We just gotta’ wrap you up first.”  Picking up the roll of bandages, Logan reached both arms around Scott’s torso from behind, wrapping the gauze around his abdomen and back almost like a kimono.  He patched up the shoulder injuries as well, noticing how warm to the touch Scott’s skin was. 

Scott found himself with his eyes falling closed, his fingers curling to grip the edge of the table. 

“You feelin’ any better, Slim?”

“Yeah…” he answered, his voice suddenly sleepy as a small yawn inched past his lips. He was just so tired… so done with everything.  Tired of being forced to view the world through ruby colored glasses when he’d grown to hate the color anyways.  _…A heart beats fast, colors and promises, how to be brave…How can I love when I’m afraid to fall?..._

“Alright, come on.  Arms up.”  Logan waited for Scott to follow his instructions before grabbing the tee, pulling it down gently over Scott’s head.  He slowly allowed the fabric to conform, releasing it gradually so as not to hurt him when the shirt touched the bandaged areas.  “There…” His voice faded slowly as he gazed at the man before him, his senses knocked back into him when the door suddenly opened.

“Scott, you’re needed in the Danger Room.”

Logan scowled at the woman in white.  “He can’t even keep his eyes open, are you out of your mind, woman?”

“Well then he needs to get up and get there, because a class doesn’t teach itself.”  She examined her already manicured nails, her white boot tapping on the floor.  “Come on, Dear.”

With a classy smirk, Emma grabbed Scott’s hand and led him towards the door.  “You really need to man up, sweetheart.  Just a few scrapes.”

“You never even bothered to ask how he was… what even happened to him,” Logan pointed out, standing up.  _…Watching you stand alone…_

“In the long run, all that matters is that he’s alive and here.  Logan, I have no time to quarrel around with you.”

Logan could tolerate it no longer.  “You didn’t even think about the fact that he’s still barely able to move! Let him rest a little, will you?”  Now, Logan knew nothing about love, nothing at all, but no matter how much of an ass Scott came across as, he had never been coldhearted.  Emma always had been.  To Logan, she was nothing more than a highfalutin outer shell.  As cold and hard as the diamond she transformed into.  And he couldn’t stand the sight of Scott getting pushed around by her.  He began to wonder why Emma had never bothered to check up on him after the motorcycle accident, or even after he got home from the laboratory. She probably just tapped into his mind to check if he was still alive.  Yet, Logan was the one who stayed in the hospital chair all night long and fell asleep in the waiting room hoping the doctors hadn’t confirmed Scott’s death.  Why was it that Scott’s happy aura, like while he was stuffing his face with Cinnamelts, was suddenly gone?  As Emma pulled her so-called lover from the room, Logan could have sworn that Scott glanced back at him, but the dark lenses made it impossible to tell. 

As Emma pulled him along, Scott was just about ready to pass out on the ground.  He felt himself beginning to hallucinate lucidly, and suddenly he was no longer in the hallways of the X-mansion.  The lights dimmed until it was pitch black, and the hand pulling his exhausted body along was much firmer, a trace of hair along the wrist.  He was running over tree branches and fallen leaves as the wail of sirens floated in the background.  According to his mind, the wounds were still bleeding through his shirt, and all he could hear was the husky yet calming voice telling him to keep up the pace.  Wind blew ferociously as the watchtowers disappeared behind rows of trees, proximity eventually allowing the motorcycle that would save their lives to come into view.  “I can’t… keep…” He choked out the words, even his hallucinatory vision beginning to fail.  He wasn’t sure whose voice was egging him on and telling him he was going to make it, but it certainly wasn’t Emma’s. Scott heard the snapping of a tree branch, and felt himself go crashing onto the forest floor.

“Scott!”

He heard someone yell his name from what seemed like miles away.  Opening his eyes to a hazy world, he came to the realization that he’d been seeing things and had ended up passed out on the floor of the mansion hallway.

“Scott, come on you gotta’ wake up.”

Fully opening his heavy eyelids, Scott stared to the side and noticed the pair of white stiletto heels at his side.  So if Emma was standing over him and spectating, who was cradling him in their arms? 

“There you go, Scotty.  Had me scared for a second.”  Logan was staring down at the boy as he woke, resting his head on his lap as he sat on his knees in the middle of the hall. “Don’t do that again, got it?”  He pushed the sweaty hair from Scott’s forehead, still staring down at him with kind eyes.  “Don’t want ya’ getting hurt.”

Scott was unable to think as he stared up at the man above him without a word.  _…All of my doubt suddenly goes away, somehow…_

“Scott.  I’m right here.”  Logan waved his hands over Scott’s eyes, trying to get a response out of him.  “You’ve… you’ve gotta’ answer me cause I-… We almost lost you three times now… D-do you hear me?  Scotty?”

To anyone else passing by, Emma’s sudden, sharp gasp of shock would’ve been seen as completely random and unnecessary.  However, Logan knew it was because she’d just read his mind.  The person Logan was holding in his arms had a soul.  A living, breathing, warm soul.  And that soul was kind on the inside.  That soul was locked up and waiting for someone to make it laugh, to make it blush and smile, to make it enjoy life itself.  The idea that anyone played with that soul like a toy was enough to make Logan’s eyes burn.  Scott had lived through hell, a burning life of spite, backstabbing, and cruelty filled with physical, emotional, and mental pain, and all Logan could think of was how badly this soul in front of him deserved Heaven.

 _One step…_ The hallway was now silent, leaving Logan unable to hear anything else except the anxious pounding of his heart as he brushed a strand of hair from Scott’s eyes.  Then the world went completely silent, allowing Logan to focus on the boy’s lips below his as he slowly brought his head down.

 _Closer…_ And their lips touched.  It was a tender, light touch as Logan’s lips brushed against Scott’s.  The only way he could describe it was warm.  The feeling diffused through his body, causing him to cradle Scott closer, ignoring Emma altogether.

The kiss didn’t catch Scott off guard at all.  Or maybe it did, but the desire within him had already caused him to long for it.  _…I have died every day, waiting for you…_

 _…Darling don’t be afraid…_ Logan felt his claws slowly slide out of his hands as he locked his strong arms around Scott in a protective embrace, his claws threatening anyone who dared to try taking him away.

 _…I have loved you, for a thousand years…_   Scott’s time in the prison, his time alone in waiting, had felt like forever.  And now he was free…

 _…And I’ll love you for a thousand more…_ The feral deepened the kiss, slowly cupping the back of Scott’s head as they both remained on the floor, Logan kneeling with Scott resting on his folded legs.

A little out of breath by the time their lips unstuck, Scott managed a faint whisper.  “So… was that pity catering too?”

“No, no… That would mean I didn’t mean it.”  The feeling was mutual.  Lifting Scott into his arms, Logan made his way up the stairs and back into his own room.  He used Scott’s back to close the door, and began kissing him senseless once they were alone inside.  Was it wrong? Of course,- well… that depends on how you look at it.

Scott’s back was up against the door, his arched midsection causing only his hips and shoulder blades to be touching the wooden frame, soon followed by his head as it slowly tilted back to give Logan access to his neck.  Scott was unable to remove his focus from the feeling just below his hips and directly in the center of his pelvis.  It seemed so long since… But it wasn’t just that.  Scott had never felt such a heaviness, such a pounding, aching throb before. He felt like he’d been built up and was slowly being weighed down, yet forced to remain standing.

_Like growing cantaloupe on a cherry tree._

 He was unable to make a sound out of fear of getting the entire mansion’s attention.

Logan rested a hand on him and applied just the tiniest bit of teasing pressure.  “Slow down there, Tiger.  You just passed out in the middle of the floor and I’m not gonna’ let that happen here in my room either.”

That made Scott whine more than a kid in a candy store.  He pouted, he fussed, and it made Logan think he needed a good smack across the mouth. 

“I know you’re probably not used to hearing this, Scott,” Logan stated, “but _no_.  Hear me?  You’re too close to dying right now.  And I don’t want you dead, nor do I want to be the one who kills you.”  Logan placed both hands firmly on Scott’s back, lifting him away from the wall and slowly returning him to stand on his own two feet.

Scott did not look happy.  He stood there staring Logan down like he’d just stolen all of his favorite ice cream from the freezer.

Logan shrugged his shoulders and still refused, doing his best to ignore the massive situation Scott was having down south.  “I told you no.”

“Gee, thanks a lot,” Scott muttered.  Why did Logan even have to start kissing him to begin with?  Just to leave him standing there hungry? 

“Sorry, I shouldn’t have-”

“No, no.  It’s fine.”  Scott waved a hand and began to make his way out of the bedroom, now even dizzier since on top of his weakened condition, he felt like the blood had been drained from the rest of his body and was distributed unevenly through his systems.  “Asshole,” he murmured as he nearly passed out again, groaning as Logan caught him and carried him back inside to lay him down.

“See? You can’t even make it out the door.” Logan lifted Scott’s head to make room for a pillow underneath, and then draped a blanket over him.  Logan glanced down and blinked a few times.   The summit formed from underneath the blanket was starting to bother him.  “Damn it, Scott.  Will you rest for God’s sake if I…?”

“Maybe.”

Logan just eyed him warily.  Scott’s trip through hell had turned his crankiness into cattiness. _Just cut the guy some slack, Logan._   The truth was that Logan did love him.  As he climbed onto the bedside and sat on his heels next to Scott, he began to remember all the moments leading up to the realization that he had feelings for him. 

_While Scott was arguing with Jean, and Bobby and Logan were laughing from the top of the stairs, Logan was unaware what the poor guy was going through.  It was probably just Scott’s time of the month again._

_When Logan had gone outside to find Scott crying his eyes out on the handlebars of his bike, Logan had almost felt sorry for him.  He even felt guilt for having laughed earlier._

_Finding Scott impaled in the motorcycle accident? Not only did this make Logan loathe Jean, but he realized how terrified he was to lose the man he claimed to hate.  After all, nothing was more entertaining than Scott’s easy ability to be unamused with Logan’s actions.  The little whiner was almost fun to have around sometimes._

_In the hospital, while Logan sat at the bedside, he was ashamed that he’d never gotten to know Scott.  Summers was a pretty decent guy, but horribly misunderstood.  His warmhearted self was always trapped under his leader mask.  Then came the desire to make sure nothing bad happened to the poor guy again._

_The way Logan lashed out at Jean and Alex after Scott had been kidnapped made him realize that he cared.  He didn’t want to admit it, but the cold truth was that he was angry with himself for letting Scott go like that.  He blamed himself while finding that he wasn’t just angry, but broken too.  After seeing what those horrible government workers did to Scott, and Logan knew it was crazy, but he got this crazy idea of killing them all off and carrying the man home in his arms while he cried in relief into the white tank covering Logan’s chest._

_By the time they got home, seeing Scott pushed around by Emma Frost just drove him crazy on the inside.  Did she rescue him and find a way to get him to calm down? No.  Did she bother taking care of the nasty wounds left in Scott’s midsection? No.  No she didn’t.  And that’s why he kissed him.  Because good things up for grabs always get taken, but not always into the right hands._

“Logan?” Scott whispered.  The Canadian seemed to be in a bit of a daydream or a trance.

“What? Oh. Yeah.” He looked down at the brown-haired man below him and used his thumb to push a strand from Scott’s eyes.  He suddenly wished he knew what color they were.  Green? Brown? No.  Blue. A bright, brilliant blue.  That’s what he decided as he lifted up the lower half of the blanket.  There were only three sounds that filled the room next.  The sound of a pair of socks being dropped over the edge of the bed and onto the floor, followed by a single pair of jeans, and then one pair of briefs.  Then the quiet sound of Scott’s vocalizations and Logan’s lips.  Nothing more, nothing less.  Unable to bear the increased tension, Logan gave in under the condition that he’d be as gentle as humanly possible.

The two woke late in the next morning to a knock on the door.  Someone was calling Logan’s name to see if he knew where Scott went. 

 _I’ll just tell him Scott’s still a little sleepy,_ he planned to say.  He didn’t care who saw them pressed together in bed, and he certainly didn’t care that their clothes were strewn throughout the room.Pulling on his boxers, he stood after kissing Scott’s shoulder and went to open the door.  He found Ororo standing at the door and gave a nod, turning back to the bed in order to point out Scott asleep under the covers. “Yeah, he’s right…” Scott was no longer in the bed.  Where the hell…?  Logan turned back to Ororo and stammered a bit before shutting the door. “I-.. I don’t know, check the medical room.”  With that he shut the door and bolted back to the bed.  “Scott? Scotty?” 

To his dismay, Logan found Scott crouched behind the bedside table.  “Scott… why are you hiding?”  Logan was unable to shake the idea that Scott was possibly ashamed to be seen in bed with him.  All those tender touches last night… all those careless whispers under the covers made Scott ashamed.  And honestly, Logan was deeply hurt by it.  He was stupid enough to think Scott had a beautiful soul locked up behind his usual asinine, straitlaced self.

“Because I…” Scott’s face fell as he came to the realization that Logan knew he was scared to admit openly that he wanted and loved him.

“Get out, please.”  Logan stepped back and rubbed his forehead.  “I’ll give you a paper bag so you can walk out without anyone knowing it’s you.”

“But, Logan…”

“Go.”  Logan’s forehead was in his palm as he blindly pointed to the door.  “Now.”  Those sweet kisses that filled the night were all lies.  Every last one of them.  Logan had given up his inner security and allowed another man to touch him in ways that only someone he truly loved would be invited to.  There was only one problem.  The man he loved was mortified to have his feelings exposed.  As the door closed and Scott fled the room, Logan was left with the lingering feeling of Scott’s fingertips tracing the small of his back, waist and legs. 

The two rarely talked for the entirety of the week.  The tension filled the air, and it was getting to the point where neither man could stand it any longer.

“I’m sorry,” Scott admitted across the kitchen one morning.  Logan ignored him.

Meanwhile, Jean was unable to help wondering what could possibly be going on between the two.  Emma refused to say anything other than the fact that she and Scott had called it quits.  “Mind me asking what’s going on with you?” She asked Scott one day, and he just looked at her in disbelief.

“Mind me asking why you’re speaking to me all of a sudden?  Console yourself with Alex, because my problems don’t belong to you anymore.”  Scott adjusted his tie and kept on walking straight down the hallway and into his classroom.  Deep inside, he knew Logan would be proud of him for standing up for himself.  If only he hadn’t screwed that up as well.  But didn’t he have a habit of screwing up anyways?  He tried to keep his team in line and got criticized for being too stiff.  He tried to fix his stiff attitude by rebelling in his methods, using Phoenix against the enemy.  Now he was a mutant terrorist like Magneto. 

Scott entered his classroom to find the room full of students, as usual, and he began to teach.  Some of the younger girls always stared him down when he turned to write something on the board, and while normally finding it humorous, today was just not a good day.  He finished writing the homework answers on the board, the chalk moving like molasses in his hands as he was unable to remove Logan from his mind.  He’d thrown away the man who cared.  And now nobody could care less about him.  Everyone wanted him for the sake of saying they were with him at some point in their lives, but nobody really _wanted_ him.  Nobody he was with ever told him he was wrong or that he was being an idiot.  Was that because they cared a lot, or because they didn’t care at all?

“Mr. Summers?”

“Hm? Oh.”  He read off the last of the answers and then debated what to do.  “Quick quiz tomorrow.  Class is dismissed for today.”  When the students filed out, Scott shut the door in silence and sat down on the edge of his desk.  He twiddled his thumbs in his lap and drowned in his thoughts.  Why was he ashamed to be with Logan?  Of course, it would be hard to explain a transition from Jean Grey to Emma Frost to Wolverine.  Jean was a lovely, courageous woman when she wanted to be, and Emma was stern but attractive as well.  Scott knew he could’ve asked anyone in the school why they thought he went to Emma, and their response would be along the lines of, ‘You wanted to be satisfied by the woman who dresses in thigh high boots and a corset so tight her big, perky boobs spill out so you could let your mind slip away from reality.  Plus, she’ll be willing to throw seductive thoughts into your mind in the middle of the day so you have to face the chalkboard while you teach’.  But something about Logan felt different.  He wasn’t afraid to tell Scott he was wrong and smack some sense into him.  And that, Scott realized, is what made him fall so hard. 

His cheeks were now moistened with tears, knowing there was nothing he could say to bring Logan back to him.  No words would ever make up for the fact that he’d acted so childish and out of line, especially after everything Logan had done for him.  He heard the doorknob turn and darted his gaze towards the opening door.  It was Logan.

Logan could see the tears coating Scott’s perfect skin, but he refused to let himself wish he could wipe them away.  No.  It was done.  “I’ve got part of a combat lesson in here, I gotta’ use this room for a bit,” he said, plopping his jacket down on the desk, causing Scott to stand up and take a few steps away from it to a respectable distance.

“Yeah, sure.  Shouldn’t be a problem.”  Scott’s voice was weak… so brokenly weak that Logan could barely keep a straight face. 

And it was obvious that Scott wasn’t trying to be a primadonna and that he truly was upset by the constant tension.  If Logan wasn’t going to be with him, he at least wished that they could return to their normal relationship of insults as they passed by in the corridors.  Fighting was so much more desirable than this hateful silence.

“Am I really that bad?” Logan questioned out of nowhere.  “Am I that inferior to your so-called status that you’re embarrassed to be seen next to me?”

“N-no… Logan you’ve gotta’ listen to me I was tired and I wasn’t… I wasn’t thinking…”  Scott felt like he was only making it worse.

“Cut the excuses.  Grow up and move on.”

If there were nothing Scott could say to get Logan back to wanting to express the love between them, there had to be something he could _do_.  Jump on him? No, too assault-like.  Kiss him? Logan would shove him away for sure.  Something that showed Logan he wanted the love without imposing it on him.  _Give him a choice._  

As Logan turned to grab a cigar from the desk drawer, Scott stood several feet away, almost at the window.  He gazed at Logan with a silent hope as he removed his tie, sliding it off his neck and dropping it to the floor.  That got Logan’s attention.  Scott could see him staring with a concerned curiosity from the corner of his eyes.  _Good. Now keep going.  Slowly._   Without a word, unable to prevent his eyes from burning, Scott untucked his shirt and slowly unbuttoned it from the top down.  He allowed it to slip from his shoulders onto the floor without a sound.  _Look at this. I’m pathetic._ But he continued.  He wanted so desperately to stare at the ground in shame as he unbuckled his belt and slid his pants down his legs onto the floor, but no.  He continued to keep his eyes on the one he wanted to show he loved. 

Logan eyed him, wondering if that was where he would stop, or if he had enough guts and passion to keep going.  Scott never broke eye contact as he slipped down his boxers off his hips to his ankles.  In pure silence of anticipation, he met Scott’s gaze from across the room and, with his lips pressed together, began heading for the door.

 _No… no… n-no…_ Scott thought.  He squeezed his eyes shut as he stood there in vain, tears beginning to cascade once again. “N-no...” He whispered to himself. “No…”  The sound he dreaded the most was that of the door.  If he heard it close, that meant Logan had abandoned him not only naked in the middle of the room, but completely as a whole.  Because if this didn’t work, nothing would.

The sound of the door shutting was enough to cause Scott to start bawling.  _Oh, you idiot… what were you thinking? You’ve made an even bigger mess than before…_   Even with his eyes closed, Scott was able to picture Logan walking farther and farther away from him. 

Scott didn’t have the courage to open his eyes.  All it would do was ensure that Logan had in fact, left him stranded in the vacant room.  _I actually… I actually think I loved him… I… I still do…_ It wasn’t fair.  Nothing was fair.  And as the tears came harder and harder, as his gasps for air grew more strained and choke-like, Scott felt a pair of arms around his waist from the front, and a pair of lips nuzzled on the top of his head. 

“Quit your cryin’, Scott.  I just didn’t want the rest of the world to see ya’ bare like that.”

“L-logan….?” Scott’s eyes were still shut tight.

“Well, you tell me.  Do you know anyone else who’d be holding you buck ass nude in the middle of your classroom?  I’d sure hope not.”

For the first time in his crazy, hazardous, drama-filled life, Scott smiled.  It was a smile of relief, the letting go of fear, but most importantly, a smile of love for the first person in his life who would never… never let him go.


End file.
